


Of Sand and Snow

by lj_todd



Series: Wolves and Vipers [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Loss, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 49
Words: 94,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lj_todd/pseuds/lj_todd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was not how it was supposed to be. But one mistake, one stupid mistake, has changed everything. Neither Lyanna nor Oberyn are happy with the demands of their families, neither wish to be married, most certainly not to each other, but they've little choice in the matter. They are expected to marry. To be husband and wife. Yet how can they be when they can barely be civil with one another? Dorne has seen its share of conflict, but nothing could have prepared the nation for the clash of wolf and viper that this union will bring about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this because of a few really well put together photo edits I saw over on Tumblr that caused a few plot bunnies to jump up and down while demanding my attention.

Lyanna sat staring into the fireplace, watching the dance of the flames, and fought down the urge to scream. Or throw something. Drawing a deep breath, hands clenching in the fabric of her skirt, her father's words continued to echo through her mind.

_"I don't care if nothing happened, Lya! A dozen men, noble men,_ saw _the two of you together. They saw him_ kiss _you! By the Gods Old and New, Lya, his reputation is known throughout all of Westeros! Now they'll think you're just as sullied as all the other women he's bedded! Gods be damned, Lya, what were you thinking?!"_

Nothing she had said, or rather tried to say, had made a difference. Her father had been furious. She'd never seen him in such a temper. Her brothers hadn't been much calmer. Brandon had been just as angry, making demands of her right along side their father. Ned at least had been more reasonable, he hadn't yelled, he'd simply asked if she truly thought so little of Robert, her betrothed, that she would throw away their potential future like this.

She'd been spared answering Ned's question by her father's declaration that this problem would be solved before the end of the tourney.

That had been hours ago and she was still furious at her family's reaction to something that, to her, had meant nothing at all.

A kiss.

All of this fuss and anger over one, Gods be damned, kiss.

And that was all it had been. A kiss. But those who had seen the kiss happen had not seen the innocence of it. The chaste nature. All they saw was a man with a reputation, a well known reputation, and a Lord's daughter who was betrothed to the Lord of Storm's End, share a kiss that, in their twisted little minds, meant they probably shared much more. She knew by now that word would have spread even further, that her betrothed would know of it and...

A loud roar, words indeterminable through the door, caused her to flinch.

Robert knew.

She heard Ned shout Robert's name, knew her brother was attempting to calm his friend, and she quickly stood, turning to face the door, one hand folding behind her back, grasping at the hilt of the dagger that she'd been wearing all day. Robert was a good man. But he had a temper. She'd seen him lash out at men when angered. She'd seen the damage he could do when riled. And though she wanted to believe him to be above striking a woman, no matter how angry he was, she would be prepared in case. She would not allow him to touch her.

When the door slammed open she jumped as the wood struck stone, surprised that the force hadn't ripped the door from its hinges, and she drew a quick breath as Robert stalked into the room, Ned close behind, trying to grab hold of Robert. To stop him or simple hold him at the door she didn't know, nor cared, her gaze was fixed on Robert's face, on the fury she saw there and she reminded herself that the Baratheon words were _Ours is the Fury_ for a reason.

"Why?!" Robert's bellow echoed through the room but Lyanna didn't flinch. She held her ground. A wolf did not run from a stag. "Why, Lya, why? Why would you do this to me? To us?!"

"I have done nothing," she said, surprised by how calm, how even, she was able to speak for despite all outwards appearance of being calm inside she was shaking.

"Nothing?!" Robert stepped forward, easily shaking Ned off, ignoring the way his friend told him to stay calm. "You call being caught with that...that _snake_ nothing?!"

"Yes!" She gave Robert a withered glare. "I call it nothing because _nothing happened_!"

"You kissed him!"

Lyanna made a low sound and shook her head. "Yes, which is nothing compared to the things you've done with tavern maids and serving wenches!" She saw the brief flicker of surprise in his eyes. "I've said nothing, even while I knew you bedded any woman who would spread her legs for you, and when I share something as meaningless as a kiss with someone else you, and everyone else, are ready to start a Gods be damned riot!"

Robert's rage quickly returned and he took another step towards her.

"Meaningless?" His hands clenched into fists at his sides and in response her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger. "Perhaps if it had been some stable boy or that little crannogman you've become so bloody fond of it would be meaningless, Lya, but it wasn't!"

Lyanna opened her mouth, ready to fire back, but before she could a deep voice spoke from the doorway.

"No, it wasn't, Lord Robert."

They all turned and watched as Rickard Stark entered the room, followed closely by Brandon. Rickard's gaze, sharp and grey, went from Robert's face to Lyanna's, as he walked closer, Brandon lingering by the doorway. Robert stepped back several paces as Rickard neared, moving to standing between them. Rickard looked at Lyanna for a long, tense moment, before he looked at Robert. "My sincerest apologize, Lord Robert," Rickard said calmly, though Lyanna saw the tension in his face, the stiff way he held himself. "But I wish to speak to my daughter alone."

Robert made a low sound, looking ready to argue, but Ned bumped him, subtly, and shook his head at his friend. With a deep breath, and a sharp look at Lyanna, he gave a nod. "I understand, Lord Rickard."

Lyanna watched as Robert walked out, closely followed by Ned, while Brandon lingered by the door until Rickard gave him a nod. As he elder brother stepped out he shot her a look, one that said he would not want to be in her place right now, before closing the door behind him. She drew a low breath and turned her gaze to her father. He did not look to be in any better mood now than he had hours ago.

"Father, please I can..."

"You do not speak now, Lya." Rickard's gaze narrowed and Lyanna swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. "Now you will listen."

She didn't make a sound as he turned, walking slowly to stand by the fire, he looked down at the flames for a moment before looking at her again. "I have determined how to best...handle the situation I find you in."

"You make it sound as though I did something wrong," she muttered, not thinking he would hear her but that proved to be wishful thinking as he suddenly whirled around, glaring harshly at her.

"Do you think this is funny, Lya? Do you?"

She quickly shook her head, knowing that trying to explain what had really happened would be pointless. Her father was beyond listening at this point.

Rickard sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "As I said, I have determined to find a solution to the problem we are presented with."

She said nothing, merely waited to see what he would say.

"I've sent a raven, with a letter explaining the situation and my terms. I suspect by the end of the tourney I will have a response."

She frowned. "Terms?"

Rickard made a low sound. "I do so hope you are pleased with yourself, Lya," he said, voice cold and flat and making Lyanna feel like a small child. He sounded so disappointed in her. "Because I suspect that within a month you will be married."

Lyanna frowned in confusion. "Married?" That didn't sound right. She and Robert had been betrothed for nearly a year and there had been little talk of a wedding. Why would her father decide they should be married now? All because a few people were talking about what they had seen?

"Aye." Rickard's face was unreadable and Lyanna had a sinking feeling that she was not going to like where this was going. "Once his brother steps in I'm sure Prince Oberyn will do his duty and make certain this...situation...is resolved properly."

Lyanna's eyes widened and she stammered for a moment before finally managing to find her voice. "Prince...Prince Oberyn...you mean...but...no. No, I am betrothed to Robert. I..."

"You _were_ betrothed to Robert."

Everything seemed to grow cold as Lyanna stared wide eyed at her father as everything sank in. "But..."

"I will be informing Robert the moment I leave this room. I would not have his reputation suffer because of your poor choice."

Lyanna let out a pained sound.

"But nothing happened!"

Rickard reached out, cupping her cheek and giving a sad smile. "And I believe you," he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. "You are my little girl, Lya, and while I would not choose the Martell boy myself...my hands are tied in this. Too many people already know and that number is growing. There is no other choice. Please, please Lya, try and understand. And remember your duty as a Stark."

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before he turned and walked from the room, the door closing quietly behind him. The feeling that washed over her in the empty silence was one of dread.


	2. Chapter 2

The wineglass crashed into the wall but Elia, Princess of Westeros, did nothing more than watch with an expression of mild interest. "Honestly, you're acting like a petulant child," she said with a sigh, watching as Oberyn paced like a caged animal, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"He cannot make me do this!"

Elia did nothing but sigh in the presence of her brother's fury. "According to this," she waved the letter that had arrived by raven that morning. "He can."

"I did nothing! Nothing more than kiss that...that child! Doran writes as though I had bedded her!"

"It's a scandal, brother mine. A scandal created out of an innocent act true enough but a scandal none the less." Elia rose from her chair and crossed the room, stopping Oberyn from pacing by taking his hands in hers. "Tell me, what harm is there in marrying her? She's of a noble family. One of the greatest Houses in all of Westeros. It will create an alliance between the North and Dorne that has never before existed."

Oberyn gave her a withered look.

"There's this funny thing you do," he said, voice still filled with his rage, though it was not directed at her. "You open your mouth and Doran's voice comes out."

He pulled away from her touch and crossed the room. She tipped her head to one side and watched him.

"And is Doran wrong?"

"YES!" Oberyn whirled, dark eyes blazing as he glared at her. "She is a child, Elia! I've no desire to take a child as a wife! I've no desire to take a wife at all!"

Elia scowled, looking at him as she did Rhaenys whenever her daughter misbehaved. "Then perhaps," she snapped as the door to her chamber opened and her handmaiden, Ashara enter, though the girl hesitated in the doorway, clearly uncertain if she should stay or not. "You should have thought of all of that before you risked her reputation! You knew who she was, knew she was promised to another, and yet you still had to play your game! You think your actions have no consequences, Oberyn, well the Gods are laughing now, for you have to pay for what your choices."

Oberyn made a low sound and looked away from his sister, hands clenching so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were white.

Elia sighed softly and gestured for Ashara to leave them, waiting until the door shut behind her friend before she spoke again.

"We all must make sacrifices, brother mine," she said calmly, looking at Oberyn with a soft gaze, softer at least than it had been moments before. "I have made mine. Now, now it is your turn to make yours."

Oberyn grunted.

"And what sacrifice did Doran make?"

Elia frowned and gazed at her brother for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. "He makes it every day. Do you think it is easy? Being the Prince of Dorne? Ruling and playing politics? It is a life I would not wish for our brother. It weighs on him, Oberyn. Heavily. Just as it did on Mother."

"Yet he did not have a child forced upon him for a wife," Oberyn growled, refusing to listen to his sister's reasoning. No matter how logical it was. "He was permitted to marry Mellario out of love. Not duty. So tell me, sister, how is it now my _duty_ to mend the honour of a child when I did not tarnish her honour to begin with?"

"It is your duty because all will whisper, they will speculate, that you did more than you say. More than she says. It is your duty because Doran, your Prince, tells you it is."

Oberyn made a low sound. "If she needs to be married off let that drunken Storm Lord marry her. They're already betrothed!"

Elia rolled her eyes and snatched up Doran's letter from the table. " _"Lord Rickard has, according to his letter, broken the betrothal between his daughter and Lord Robert for fear of repercussion towards her from the Storm Lord,"_ " she read aloud, even as Oberyn snarled in protest of it. " _"And I am in agreement with him. It would not do well for the status of our House for the girl to marry the Storm Lord, or any Lord, likely have a child within a year only to have the nobles whisper that it is a Martell bastard and not trueborn. Therefore, brother, you will do what duty demands, what Lord Rickard demands and marry Lyanna Stark."_ "

"This, all of it, is horse shit," Oberyn snarled, glaring at the letter as though he could somehow reaching through it and strangle his brother. "I'll not go through with this madness!"

Elia raised an eyebrow, glancing at the letter and read aloud once more. " _"You will do this, brother, after Lord Whent's tourney has ended. You will do this or I will write Lord Rickard and advice him to take whatever action he sees fit to resolve the matter."_ " She looked up at Oberyn, gaze narrowed and cold. "Now tell me, what do you think Lord Rickard will do should you refuse to do your duty and marry his daughter?"

Oberyn scoffed.

"He'd never challenge me to combat," he was almost laughing at the mere idea. "He's not that stupid."

"He doesn't have to face you himself, idiot." Elis rolled her eyes at him. "He has two sons, one of whom happens to be brash and loves his sister as deeply as you love me. Now, if the situation were reverse, if Brandon or Eddard Stark was in your place and I was in Lyanna's, what would you do?"

Oberyn drew a deep breath, knowing his sister had him, there was no way he could weasel out of her logic. He could fight Doran's tooth and nail, claw and struggle with everything breathe. But Elia knew how to work him. She knew how make him do as she wanted. She always had. Sighing heavily he rubbed a hand over his face.

"I'd gut the bastard, as well you know."

"Exactly." Elia set the letter aside. "And the only reason Brandon Stark hasn't come howling for your blood is because his father managed to convince Doran of this marriage being payment enough."

She crossed to where he stood, cupping his face in her hands, looking him in the eye.

"Now tell me, baby brother. Will you do your duty? Will you marry this girl and spare out family bloodshed, suffering and even more whispers? Or will I be forced to watch you duel a man over something as foolish as your own stupidity?"

He stared at her for a long moment before letting out a low sigh.

"There is no getting out of this is there?"

Elia smiled almost sadly. She felt for her brother. Being forced to marry someone, someone you barely knew and did not love, was hardly fair but she hadn't been wrong about sacrifices being necessary. Or that this marriage would create an important union between the North and Dorne. "You knew there wasn't when you first read Doran's letter."

Oberyn said nothing as he slowly stepped away, turning to one of the tables and grabbing the pitcher of wine, as he faced her again, lifting the pitcher in a mock toast of sorts. "Well, sister dearest," he said, slapping on a smile of false cheer which made her frown at him. "Here's to my pending nuptials. May it be...well...may it be filled with enough entertainment that it makes Doran regret ever agreeing to it in the first place."

Elia rolled her eyes and he took a drink straight from the pitcher. "Oh, Oberyn," she sighed as she watched him saunter out of the room, the door banging shut behind him. She knew him well enough to know that he would go get drunk, find a pretty girl or boy, or both, to lose himself in for the night and tomorrow he would carry on acting a petulant child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

She returned to her chair and picked up Doran's letter, reading through it again, before sighing again and tossing it back down. "I certainly hope you know what you are doing, Doran," she muttered as she looked towards the window. "Because this will not be an easy thing. On Oberyn or Lyanna."


	3. Chapter 3

Lyanna sat, slouched, Ned and Howland, watching the joust.

"Sit up, Lya," Ned whispered to her as the knights clashed together, the roar of the crowd ringing through the air as loudly as the splintering wood. "Father will..."

"Father can go swallow a goat turd for all I care," Lyanna snarked, which caused Howland to give her a startled look while Ned groaned softly, knowing she didn't truly mean it, but trying to appear to be the reprimanding brother in case any of the others sitting around them happened to be listening.

"I know you're upset about Father breaking your betrothal but..."

"What I'm _upset_ about, Eddard," she cut in coldly, glaring at her brother as a knight rode by. "Is that, instead of just allowing me to tell the truth, Father is forcing me to marry a man whose reputation is so well known that most Lords would never even consider betrothing a daughter to him."

"Lya, you..."

"Did you know he has three daughters already?" Lyanna made sure to ask sweetly, politely, refraining from calling them bastards as others would because, honestly, legitimate or not they were still his daughters. She saw the surprised look on Ned's face and smiled as he sputtered, quietly demanding to know how in the world she knew that. "Told me himself, the same day that we..."

"Shh," Ned hissed as the Crown Prince rode past them. Lyanna rolled her eyes but smiled just the same as the dark armoured Rhaegar slowed, head turning and, beneath his helm, he looked at her. She felt her brother and Howland both tense but in the beat of a heart the Prince had rode on.

"That was strange," Howland muttered as he watched Rhaegar take position against Barristan Selmy, a knight from the Kingsguard.

Lyanna sighed and slouched further, caring nothing for the match, for she knew, just like everyone else, that Ser Barristan would not risk harming Rhaegar so the match was hardly fair. She turned her head and looked down the stands to where her soon-to-be good-sister sat.

Princess Elia Martell was lovely, wearing a fine dress of silk that brought out the warmth in her olive skin, dark hair worn up in some Southern fashion that Lyanna couldn't fathom. Elia's dark eyes were fixed on Rhaegar, on her husband, and a soft smile spread across that pretty face. Perched upon her lap was her two-year-old daughter, Rhaenys, who was more interested in playing with her uncle's hands than watching her father joust. Oberyn, sitting next to Elia, was smiling at Rhaenys, obviously about as interested in the joust as the little girl.

Lyanna smiled a bit at the sight.

She wondered if he was like that with his own daughters.

The way he'd spoken of them suggested he was.

When Oberyn's head lifted suddenly, their gazes locking, Lyanna felt as though her heart was pounding against her ribs and she quickly looked away, focusing on the match even though she had no interest in it. She felt, more than saw, Ned look at her and then down the stands. She felt him stiffen and when he started to move, body starting to rise from his seat, no doubt thinking Oberyn had done something, she quickly, subtly, and harshly dug her elbow into his side. He grunted and stilled, looking at her with a frown.

"Leave it," she hissed at him as she glanced at him, hearing the sound of a lance breaking and looking quickly back at the match, watching as Ser Barristan had to fetch a fresh lance. "Just...leave it."

"Did he..."

"Even if he did it doesn't matter." She watched as the two riders tilted, watched as Ser Barristan held nothing back, surprising her in his determination. Perhaps there was a knight not afraid of the King's wrath after all. "Just sit there and watch the bloody joust, Ned."

It was the first time she'd called him Ned in days and even without looking at him she knew she'd surprised him enough that he wasn't about to go threaten Oberyn for some imagined slight against her.

Still slouched in her seat she continued to watch the match, watched as the final tilt took place and, secretly, she hoped Ser Barristan would win. She had nothing against Rhaegar, had only spoken to him once, the first day of the tourney, but she didn't want to see him win. She found herself hiding her breath as the Prince and knight rode, full speed, towards each other, she finally sat upright as the two crashed together, Ser Barristan's lance breaking but Rhaegar's strike threw the knight from his horse.

_Damn,_ she thought as the crowd roared and cheered, she watched as Rhaegar removed his helm and helped Ser Barristan to his feet before riding to where Lord Whent stood, holding the laurel of blue winter roses, the crown for the Queen of Love and Beauty. She knew, like the rest of the crowd, that he would gift it to his wife and she slumped down in her seat once more.

Ned had just started to say something to her when Rhaegar, holding the laurel of roses, rose up to where they were sitting, pulled his horse aside the barrier, a soft smile on his face, violet eyes sparkling in the sunlight. She was confused by his actions but before she, or her companions, could speak, the Prince had leaned over to lay the laurel in her lap.

A hush fell over the crowd and Lyanna's eyes widened as she looked up at Rhaegar in shock.


	4. Chapter 4

Lyanna sat, for quite some time, in the shade of a tree, holding the ridiculous laurel of roses and wondering just what rumours, what lies, people would tell now.

Turning the laurel over and over again, the soft petals brushing against her skin, she thought about tearing it apart. _Queen of Love and Beauty_. She wanted to laugh. Love and beauty? What did she know about love and beauty? Her idea of beauty was a finely crafted sword or bow. And love? What did she know of love? Oh she loved her family, there was no doubt of it, but what did she know of the sort of love her parents had shared? The love that had driven her mother to shield her father from a shadowcat when they'd been traveling to the Eyrie to visit Ned when he'd been fostered by Lord Jon Arryn. Love had cost her mother her life and had driven her father to grieve for nearly a year. No. No she was no _Queen of Love and Beauty_.

Such a title belonged to softer women.

Women who wore pretty dresses made of silk and lace and thought the best thing in life was to marry a noble Lord and rule his keep and have his children.

Her nose wrinkled in immediate distaste.

That was not her.

It had never been her.

And it never would be.

Her fingers twisted around the flowers and she once again thought about tearing it apart. Before she could make a decision her attention was caught by someone clearing their throat. Looking up she found her Howland watching her. She sighed and looked at the flowers again. "This...I didn't..." She growled in frustration, first the incident with Oberyn and now this. It was all too much.

Howland sat next to her with a soft sigh, looking at the flowers, at the way her fingers clenched around the petals. "You'll ruin it, doing that," he said softly and she growled again, tossing the laurel to the ground.

"I don't care!" She glared at the blue flowers, as though she could make them wither and vanish. As though she could change the fact that _everyone_ had witnessed Prince Rhaegar bestowing the laurel upon her. "I never asked for it. I don't _want_ it."

"Well," Howland said as he carefully picked the laurel up, mindful of the delicate petals, looking at Lyanna with a small smile. "Prince Rhaegar must have thought you deserved it. So...I mean...if the Crown Prince thinks you should be Queen of Love and Beauty then maybe...AH! Lya! Stop!"

She thumped him a few times, aiming for the back of his head, before slumping forward, glaring at nothing in particular as she picked at the grass. "Stupid," she muttered at him, no real heat in the word.

Howland rubbed the back of his head and looked from her to the laurel and back to her. "You're father is trying to keep Brandon from challenging the Prince," he said after a few minutes of silence. "He thinks it's some sort of ploy to tarnish your reputation even further."

Lyanna snorted and shook her head. "I'm sure the Crown Prince has better things to do then worry about my reputation."

Howland made a soft sound and nodded. "Lord Rickard told Brandon near the same thing."

Lyanna couldn't help but chuckle at that, thankful that someone realized that what had happened wasn't because of her. "What did Ned say?"

Howland shrugged.

"He didn't really say anything. He's quiet, Lord Eddard. Always has been."

She hummed in response. It was always hard to judge Ned's thoughts or moods. There was a reason why he was called the Quiet Wolf. She didn't imagine though that he, like Brandon, was overly happy about this situation. He was just wasn't as hot headed as their elder brother and would wait for their father's word before he did or said anything to Prince Rhaegar. She looked at Howland and then at the crown of flowers. "Why do you think he gave it to me?"

Howland blinked, clearly surprised by the question, and he looked at the flowers, rubbing his thumb over a petal, before he answered. "I think he was just trying to be kind," he said with a shrug, remembering how Rhaegar hadn't said anything to Lyanna. Had just given her the flowers and a small smile before riding on. "I think...well...his wife is going to be your good-sister, so I think he was just trying to be kind for her sake."

Lyanna made a soft sound. "All he did was end up stirring a hornet nest that was already riled up."

It was Howland's turn to snort. "Aye, aye he did that, most certainly. Perhaps more so than your little stunt as the Knight of the Laughing Tree, folks are still arguing about who that was, just so you know."

They looked at each other for a moment before they both started laughing.

"Everything will be alright, Lya," Howland said once they stopped laughing, bumping Lyanna's shoulder with his own. "You'll see."

"I'm marrying a man I don't want to, have been crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by the Crown Prince, everyone is thinking the worst of me and you're saying that everything will be alright?"

Howland shrugged, putting the laurel on her head, which made her roll her eyes. "The Gods work in funny ways," he said as he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "But I think, in this, they have a plan. One that you'll understand in time."

Lyanna couldn't help but smile as she reached up and touched the crown of flowers. "You really think things will be alright?"

"I do."

She continued to smile as she leaned against him, his arm wrapping around her and hugging her close.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

"What in the Seven Hells was he thinking?!"

Elia caught her Oberyn's wrist before he could throw the pitcher of wine. "You are not a child," she hissed, wrestling the pitcher away from him, ignoring the sharp glare he gave her as she all but slammed the pitcher down on the table. "You do not need to throw things when you are angry!"

"So I should go and gut your bastard of a husband then?"

"Oberyn." Her voice held warning but her brother, already worked into a state, just pressed on.

"He dishonoured you! Giving that...that child the crown!" Oberyn looked like he wanted nothing more than to collect his spear, hunt Rhaeger down and make good on his threat to gut him. "He might as well have spat on you, the dirty fucking..."

The sound of Elia slapping her brother in the face was deafening.

He stared at her in surprise.

She'd not struck him since they were children.

Her dark eyes blazed with fury and it was directed at him.

"You will stop talking about Rhaegar that way," she hissed at him as she drew herself to her full height, which will not overly impressive, immediately reminded him of their mother whenever she'd asserted her power someone who thought they were her superior simply just because she was a woman. "He is my husband. And I know you have never approved of our match, you even argued with mother about it, but you are going to have to accept that he is my husband and the next time you insult him I will do what any good Dornish woman would and give you a new scar to go along with all the rest. Am I in anyway unclear, Oberyn?"

"But he..."

"Did only as I asked him!"

Oberyn blinked. "What? You...Elia...you..."

Elia sighed and pushed her hair back. "She just..." She sighed again and shook her head. "The last few days she just...she looked so upset that I...I just thought it would make her smile. I didn't think it would make things so much worse."

Oberyn sighed, reaching out to grab the pitcher of wine and pour two glasses, after handing one to Elia he dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed. "I don't understand, Elia," he said, looking at his sister as he took a long drink. "What do you care about her? Some girl you don't even know and you...you wanted to make her smile?"

He was chuckling until he saw the way Elia was scowling at him.

"I care because soon that _child_ , as you call her, will be my good-sister and, unlike you and your relationship with Rhaegar, I would actually like to have a good relationship with Lyanna."

Oberyn stared at her for a moment before letting out a low sound and downing the rest of his wine. "Well I hope that _good relationship_ will not include swapping stories of motherhood and child raising."

Elia, who'd been about to take a drink of her own wine, paused, the glass half raised to her lips. "Oberyn..." She started to say, slowly lowering her glass, but Oberyn quickly shook his head.

"I'll marry the child," he said quickly, ignoring the way Elia's stare quickly became a glare. "But, honestly Elia, do not expect me to have babes with her. I prefer women to girls. Women who know what they're doing with their bodies. I don't need some virgin girl who'll cry and want to be held and..."

Oberyn barely managed to duck the glass as Elia threw it at him. Wine splattered over him and the bed and he sputtered, shocked by uncharacteristic outburst from his sister.

"Elia!"

"I hope she is as fierce as I have heard," Elia snapped as the door opened and Rhaegar entered, stilling immediately as he caught sight of Oberyn, hair dripping with wine, Elia's eyes flashing with a fury rarely seen in her. "I hope she is more than you can handle. I hope she puts you in your damned place, because Gods know there may not be another woman alive who will be capable of it."

She whirled around then, her dress swirling, and stormed out of the room, pushing by Rhaegar and slamming the door behind her.

Rhaegar looked at Oberyn, saw that his good-brother was in just as sour a mood as his wife and sighed, shaking his head before following after Elia, all while muttering about fiery tempered Dornish.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally this chapter was supposed to be the flashback to show what happened between Oberyn & Lyanna and then their wedding....funnily enough, the flashback happens, but the wedding will apparently not be happening until the next chapter. (The plot bunnies were very insistent about that.)

Lyanna was sitting in the main hall, pretending to listen to the Septa about the upcoming wedding. It had been nearly two weeks since Prince Rhaegar's idiotic stunt with the crown of flowers and in that time she and her family had returned to Winterfell to prepare for the afore mentioned wedding. Despite being in the North the wedding would be one of the South, to show favour to Oberyn and House Martell. She hated the mere idea of it. She had no plan to worship the Seven just because her soon-to-be husband did. She was a Northerner and she would keep to the Old Gods, whether she was or was not in the North.

She sighed softly, glancing over at her handmaiden, Lily, who looked about as interested in what the Septa was saying as she was. Leaning back into her seat Lyanna began to think about what exactly had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

_She carefully hid the armour, knowing if anyone learned the truth of the Knight of the Laughing Tree there would be hell to pay. Looking around as she stood, checking for any sign that someone had seen her, she drew a deep breath, straightened her tunic and headed back towards the tourney grounds, thinking to slip in unnoticed while everyone was still in such a state over the fact that some unknown knight had bested three men. All for the sake of a crannogman that those three men had dared looked down upon simply because he was different. Because they deemed him to be nothing because of who he was and where he came from._

_Lyanna hadn't been able to stand by like so many others and let their behavior go unpunished. So she had donned armor and helm and fought for the right thing. Had fought for her friend._

_A smile graced her face as she remembered the looks on the faces of her opponents as she had bested them. The only thing that would have made it sweeter was if they had_ known _it was her. That a woman, a girl little more than thirteen, had bested three knights._

_"You fought well today."_

_She started, surprised by the voice, and whirled around, hand unconsciously falling to the hilt of her sword, fingers curling around it instinctively. She looked at the man who stood but a few feet from her. It took her a moment but she did recognize him. Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne and brother to the wife of the Crown Prince._

_He stood, dressed in a dark red tunic embroidered with small golden suns, spear in hand, the shaft of it was resting against his shoulder. She eyed the weapon, a shiver running up her spine as she recalled what she'd heard Brandon say about Prince Oberyn and his weapons being coated in poison. Stealing her nerves, she squared her shoulders, forcing her hand to release the sword hilt and her arms to relax at her sides, masking her features as best she could._

_"I'm sorry, my Lord," she said, making certain to use the same voice she used with Robert, trying to act the simple child that so many people thought her to be. "But I don't know what you are..."_

_Oberyn twisted his spear, using it to point to the spot where she had hidden her armor. "You were clever," he said, a grin dancing across his face, even as he let his spear rest once more against his shoulder. "Coming and going like a ghost. But you weren't quite clever enough."_

_She made a low sound. "Clearly."_

_He chuckled, that grin, that seemingly smug grin, still fixed firmly on his face and she had to fight down the urge to punch him. Just to rid him of that smirk. Did he think himself that clever? Did he think he now had something to hold over her? What Gods be damned game was he trying to play? Well whatever it was she certainly wasn't going to be stupid enough to play it._

_"And what, my Lord," she said, voice flat. "Do you plan to do with your...knowledge?"_

_His grin never faltered as he flipped his spear, the tip pointing at Lyanna's feet. "I would see if you are truly as skilled as you seemed or if it was merely luck that you bested those fools."_

_She bristled instantly. He thought it luck? He thought she was incapable of fighting, and besting, those idiots? She drew her sword without a thought to propriety or how it would reflect upon her and her family if this should be witnessed. She watched as his grin widened when she settled into a fighting stance. Before she could blink he struck out with his spear, she barely had time to react, to block his strike. She understood then why so many of the knights called compared him to a serpent. He was quick. She was having a difficult time holding any sort of defence._

_When he swung with his spear, aiming for her legs, meaning to knock her to the ground no doubt, she managed to jump just high enough to avoid it and, as she landed, his back slightly too her because of his attack, she managed to tap his shoulder with the flat of her sword. He looked at her, taking the action for what it was meant to be, a telling of what could have happened had their fight been real. His grin widened and, before she had the chance to right herself or prepare, he lashed out, managing to disarm her and press the edge of his spear to her neck._

_He was still grinning as she held her hands up in surrender. She may not have won the fight but she could see she had caused him to strain, for he panted as he slowly lowered his spear. "You fight well," he said with a chuckle as she quickly collected her sword and returned it to its sheath. "Were you to venture to Dorne you would learn to fight better."_

_She chuckled in a amusement. It was a charming idea, truly it was, but she knew it would never happen. He family nor her betrothed would not permit such a thing. "A kind thought," she said with a bitter smile. "I shall think on it."_

_Oberyn gave her an unreadable look, no doubt knowing, just as she did, that it would likely never happen, before he smiled, a real smile not that smug grin. "I believe as the victor I am entitled to a prize."_

_She couldn't help but snort. "And what, my Lord, would you claim as a prize?"_

_His smile widened as he leaned forward, his lips brushing, soft and chaste, against hers._

"Lady Lyanna!"

Lyanna was snapped from her thoughts and looked quickly at the Septa.

"Yes, Septa?"

The Septa scowled, making her look even older than she already did, and Lyanna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Am I boring you, my Lady?"

Lyanna quickly shook her head. "Not at all, Septa."

The Septa huffed, clearly not believing her.

"Your wedding, my Lady, is in two days and you must still learn the vows and..."

"Perhaps, Septa," a voice said from the doorway, causing them to all look there. "Lady Lyanna would benefit from learning from someone who _is_ actually married."

"Your Grace," the Septa said politely, bowing respectfully, as Elia walked into the room, her daughter to one side of her and Lady Ashara to the other, while two members of the Kingsguard following close behind.

Lyanna immediately stood, as was proper when in the company of royalty, and watched as Elia sat Rhaenys in a chair, Lady Ashara staying next to the young princess, the knights moving off to one side of the room, ever watchful and protective and Lyanna quickly recognized them as Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Lewyn Martell. Her attention was quickly drawn back to Elia when the Princess turned and smiled at her. She tried to smile back but knew it hadn't worked quite as she'd hoped when Elia's head tipped to the side ever so slightly.

"There's no need to be nervous, Lady Lyanna," Elia said, still smiling, walking over and taking one of Lyanna's hands in both of hers. "In a few days we'll be family."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Elia shook her head. "We're going to be family," she repeated, her smile never wavering, a kindness in her eyes that Lyanna had not been expecting. Especially considering that damnable incident at the tourney. "I think it only right that you address me as Elia."

"Of course, Your..." Lyanna quickly caught herself. "Of course, Elia."

If possible Elia's smile brightened.

"Wonderful," she said as she tugged Lyanna away from her chair. "Now, I know the Septa is doing her utmost to prepare you for your wedding." The Princess smiled at the Septa who nodded. "But I've found that a Septa cannot properly prepare a young lady for her wedding as they've never experienced it from a bride's perceptive." Elia again smiled at the Septa. "No offence intended, Septa."

"None taken, Your Grace."

Elia nodded and looked at Lyanna. "When I married, my mother had me practice the ceremony a few times, just so I knew, on some level, what to expect." She walked Lyanna over to stand by the door. "I think that's what we'll do. Now, Uncle Lewyn if you would kindly stand with the Septa, you'll play Oberyn's role for this while the Septa kindly plays the Septon."

Ser Lewyn chuckled but did as his niece and Princess asked. Elia nodded in approval.

"Now, Arthur, dear, you'll play the role of Lord Rickard."

Ser Arthur grinned and strolled over, standing to Lyanna's right and holding his arm out. As she took it, hand resting lightly just below his elbow, he gave her a grin and a wink, reminding her of Brandon and she couldn't help but smile, which seemed a good reaction because Elia giggled.

"Now," the Princess said, stepping back a few paces, giving them room. "Lord Rickard will escort you to your betrothed."

Lyanna walked with Ser Arthur, looking dead ahead, thinking that she felt rather foolish doing this, but Elia had a point. If she knew, even a little, what it would be like to do this for real then perhaps when it was actually her wedding she would feel more at ease. Or at least as at ease as she was likely to feel, given the circumstances.

Once they reached Ser Lewyn and the Septa, Ser Arthur paused, giving Ser Lewyn a stony look, which only made the older knight chuckle. With a nod Ser Arthur stepped off to the side, just as her father would do, and Ser Lewyn took his place at her side.

The Septa went through the ritual of cloaking the bride, speaking all the words that the Septon would and then came the part of exchanging the vows. Lyanna knew the words, had put them to memory in the early days of her betrothal to Robert, and though she stumbled over them a bit, she did managed to get them out. The Septa nodded and Elia clapped.

"Well done," Elia said, smiling as Lyanna turned to her. "A few more times and I think everything will be just fine."

Lyanna couldn't help but laugh and Elia's smile widened as she led the younger woman back to the door and motioned for Ser Arthur to take his place once more. It was certainly odd, Lyanna decided, but it worked and, she supposed, that was all that mattered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said in the last chapter that Oberyn and Lyanna's wedding would be in this chapter but...well...it didn't work out that way. Now, providing the plot bunnies don't get in a mood again, it will be in the next chapter.

The morning of her wedding Lyanna went into the godswood and knelt before the great weirwood tree that grew there.

She looked at the face in the trunk, the face said to have been carved by the Children of the Forest, and drew a deep breath, bowing her head in respect to the gods of her forefathers. She closed her eyes as a gentle breeze drifted through the godswood. Her hair slipped down over her shoulders, across her face, and for a moment she could forget what would happen in but a few short hours. She could pretend that it was just another day.

"Blessed be Old Ones," she spoke softly as she opened her eyes and looked at the face in the tree. "Guides and guardians, I ask that you watch over me in this hour of change. I ask that you grant me the grace to do my duty. That you grant me patience and strength when faced with challenges that might otherwise overwhelm me." She reached up and rested her hand her heart. "I ask that you grant me protection when I am so far from this home and the shelter of the branches of your sacred tree."

She bowed her head once more, eyes closing as she drew another deep breath, remembering a time when her mother had held her safe in her arms before this tree, praying for the gods to be kind and to protect their family. With a soft sound she opened her eyes, casting a long look at the tree, at the face that stared back at her with blood-red eyes, before rising and moving away silently.

Reaching the gate she paused and looked back, taking in the sight of the godswood for what was likely to be the final time. She made a low sound as she turned and quickly left, the gate shutting quietly behind her.

She moved silently through the halls of Winterfell until she eventually found herself in the courtyard. It was still early enough that the yard was all but empty, save for a few servants who were most likely heading elsewhere in the castle to tend to their duties, and not one paid her much attention beyond nodding. She was glad that their behaviour towards her hadn't changed just because she was to be wed. Shaking her head, mostly to clear gloomy and unwanted thoughts, she sighed and headed towards the stables. Though she couldn't go riding, it wouldn't be appropriate considering it was her wedding day after all; she could still spend her last few hours hiding away under everyone's noses.

As she entered the stable a few horses lifted their heads, their nostrils flaring as they scented the air, dark eyes watched her as she passed them, heading towards a stall in the back. As she approached the stall she gave a soft whistle watching as the horse within lifted his head and snorted in response. "Hello, Winter," She smiled as she stood by the stall, reaching up to run her hand down his neck. "How's my charming boy this morning, hmm?"

He nickered softly as he bumped his head, a much darker grey than his silvery body, against her shoulder. A familiar greeting, one she met by scratching beneath his chin. He made a soft sound and pressed down against her hand, making her smile widen. For all the changes her life was about to go through at least he would remain a constant. She'd chosen him as her mount when he was but a colt and had helped the stable master to break him when he'd turned two. He meant a great deal to her and she was glad that she would be able to take him to Dorne with her. He might not be a sand steed like Oberyn and Ser Lewyn rode but she was willing to bet he could hold his own against the swift horses of Dorne.

Winter bumped her shoulder again and she laughed, reaching for an apple, when a voice drew her attention behind her.

"Lya."

She stiffened at Robert's voice and slowly turned to find him but a few feet away. Why hadn't she heard his approach? And had he come looking for her here or had he merely happened upon her? And why, in the name of the Gods, was he not still in bed? Given all he had drank the night before she was surprised he had not slipped into some sort of coma. No doubt Ned had seen him to bed after supper. That or had seen him to the whore house in Winter Town.She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat and gave a small smile and nod. 

"Lord Robert."

He snorted, reminding her immediately of the horses surrounding them, eyes darkened by the dim light of the stable. "So it's to be proper titles then is it?" He took a few steps towards her and, though he didn't appear angry, she prepared herself for a rage none the less. "After all we were."

"We were betrothed, Lord Robert. Nothing more."

His gaze narrowed, nostrils flared, and suddenly she understood why many had likened him to a bull. He did certainly look one at the moment.

" _Were betrothed_ ," he repeated, all but spitting the words, and she saw in his eyes then that he was not over the fact that said betrothal had ended. Not that she had ever entertained the notion that he would be. He wasn't that sort of man. "And whose fault is it that we are no longer, eh? Who bares fault for broken dreams and heart?"

She made a low sound. "Do not paint me the villain in this. I..."

"Are set to marry another. This very day." Robert's gaze turned hard as he closed the space between them, now standing close enough to touch and she immediately regretted not tucking her dagger into her belt. "Your action led to this. Your action led your father to break agreement with me so that you might marry another."

Lyanna frowned even as she felt anger fill her.

Robert made it sound as though she had wanted this to happen. As though she preferred Oberyn.

"My father sought to protect your reputation," she snapped hotly, glaring at Robert even as he glared at her. "He feared what would be said of you if we married after what happened at that Gods be damned tourney."

Robert snorted again.

"He feared my wrath should we wed and you give birth to a child that I doubt would have been mine."

Lyanna blinked.

Had he just...

"Are you claiming to think that I...that I laid with the Viper of Dorne?!" She hissed the words like an angry cat and barely resisted the urge to put her fist into his face.

"Well what other reason would there be for your father to insist on such a hurried wedding?"

"Perhaps to salvage what little could be salvaged of my honour after people began to whisper of what they _think_ happened between Prince Oberyn and myself. After whispers began to fly because of that ridiculous crown of flowers was given to me."

That had Robert sneering. Clearly he had not taken into consideration the Crown Prince's actions at Harrenhal.

"Ah, yes. Just what did you do that prompted the dragonspawn prick to give you that crown?"

"Robert!" She hissed at him, glancing around quickly, for though it was just the stables one never knew who could be listening. "Do not..."

"Do not what?!" He fixed her with a fiery and enraged look. "Do not insult a man you spread your legs for?"

She was barely aware of the fact that she had moved until after she slapped him across the face. Her palm stung and she felt her face heating up as she realized what she'd just done. But her anger, her disbelief at his outrageous statement, pushed her guilt down to the point that it was barely there. "You are a useless piece of horseshit," she snarled as she took an unconscious step towards him. "To think that I would do such a thing! To think I would lay with a man, any man, simply for a crown of flowers that I did not want in the first place! You brainless..."

She should not have been surprised by the sudden blow. She knew Robert had a temper. Knew he was not above striking a woman in anger. But as she stumbled back, barely catching herself on the side of Winter's stall, slumping as pain flared like fire in her cheek. She looked up at Robert even as she reached up and covered her cheek. The skin wasn't broken but there would certainly be a bruise later.

Robert's eyes were wide and his face pale, as though he could scarcely believe what he'd just done, she saw fear flash across his face though she couldn't say what he was scared of. Her reaction, her family's reaction or possibly that of her betrothed, for Oberyn did not seem to be the sort of man who would take such a thing lightly.

"Lya..." Robert started, reaching out, possibly to steady her or the like, but his hand never reached her as a sword blade was suddenly pressed to the side of his neck, stilling him like a rabbit that had caught the scent of a fox.

Lyanna's gaze immediately flew to the newcomer, the person who would dare to hold a sword to the Lord of Storm's End, and she felt surprise shoot through her when she saw Ser Lewyn standing just behind Robert, a furious look upon the Dornish knight's face. Like a storm was building within the knight. A storm that was waiting to be unleashed upon Robert should the man even breath wrong. It was such a sharp contrast to the easy going knight that Lyanna had come to know over the last few days.

"Step away, Baratheon," Lewyn spoke softly, sounding unbelievably calm when it was clear as day that he was anything but.

"Ser Lewyn," Robert started, glancing back at the knight, but Lewyn merely pressed his sword closer, a shallow cut opening on Robert's neck and a thin trickle of blood rolling down the skin.

"I said step away."

Robert moved, slowly, causiously, allowing Lewyn to guide his movements with the light press of the sword, until he was well away from Lyanna. Lewyn moved between them then, shifting so swiftly that the blade of his sword was gone from Robert's neck for barely a heartbeat before it was returned.

"You should count yourself lucky, Baratheon," Lewyn growled softly, eyes fixed firmly on Robert's face. "That I do not have the same temperament as my nephew. If I did, then your head would be separated from your shoulders."

Robert's eyes flashed. "This does not concern..."

Lewyn pressed his sword closer, causing Robert to fall silent once more.

"Lady Lyanna is soon to be part of my family and while some forget those ties upon taking the oath of the Kingsguard, I have not." Lewyn gave Robert a dangerous look. "If you should ever raise your hand to her again will be the last time you have the hand."

"You can't..."

Lewyn gave a dark chuckle, drawing a bit more blood and Robert drew a sharp breath of pain. "You misunderstand me, Baratheon. It shall not be I who removes the hand."

"It will be me."

Robert, heedless of the sword still at his neck, turned quickly and Lyanna followed his gaze and a soft, wordless sound, fell from her lips at the sight of Oberyn Martell, standing shirtless, spear in hand, looking every bit as deadly and formidable as Lysa Tully had whispered him to be. It was obvious he had just come from the training grounds across the courtyard, Lewyn no doubt having been his sparing partner as the knight wore no armour yet had obviously been armed when entering the stable, and in the dim light of the stable the Dornish Prince's expression was shadowed just enough that Lyanna could not make it out from where she stood.

"Leave us," Oberyn rumbled and for a moment Lyanna was uncertain who his words were meant for but Lewyn quickly shoved Robert, who stumbled a bit, but allowed the knight to remove him from the stable. As they passed Oberyn, the Dornish Prince stepped aside, but as Robert passed by him Oberyn made a low sound and swung his spear upwards, catching Robert just below his shoulders and knocking the Storm Lord face first into the dirt.

"Oh, he tripped. Uncle, do see him to the Maester."

Lewyn chuckled and reached down to yank Robert back to his feet. "Come, my _Lord_ , let's make certain you've not injured yourself."

Lyanna watched them go before her attention turned to Oberyn, who set his spear against the wall and approached her. She did not look away from his unwavering gaze nor did she flinch when he brushed the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. She quickly reached up and pushed his hand away. "This," she said softly, not certain why she felt the need to explain. "Has never happened before."

"And it never will again."

She made a soft sound. "You cannot guarantee such a thing."

"I can."

She couldn't help but chuckle. "I do not need a protector, my Lord," she said as she stepped back, not surprised when Winter leaned over his stall to bump her shoulder with his nose. Patting her horse she looked at Oberyn. "But thank you for the concern."

Oberyn frowned, looking as though he wanted to say something else, but his jaw merely clenched and he turned on his heel, leaving without a word. Closing her eyes she leaned against the side of the stall and resisted the urge to punch the wood. No sense in her knuckles being as sore as her cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of visual aid:  
> Lyanna's [wedding dress](http://lj-todd.tumblr.com/image/76405923936)  
> Oberyn's [broach](http://lj-todd.deviantart.com/art/Martell-Housecard-373513969)

After hiding out in the stables for as long as she was able, and managing to grab a bite of food, Lyanna found herself forced, by the Septa and Lady Maege Mormont, the daughter of one of her late mother's friends and the closest thing Lyanna had to a sister, into a bath where she was scrubbed and her hair washed and scented, something she would never again care to repeat as her hair now smelled of vanilla flowers, before being hauled to her chamber where Lily and several other handmaidens, including Lady Ashara, waited to assist in getting her ready for her wedding.

She ground her teeth the entire time as the handmaidens and older women fussed and prodded at her like she was a doll. By the time she was dressed and seated for her hair to be done she was ready to say to the depths of hell with it all and go marry Oberyn as she was. Given his attitude towards her being able to wield a sword and hold her own in a fight she doubted he'd care much as to her appearance at their wedding. It took what felt like hours by the time they were done with her and Lady Maege helped her to stand with a smile, turning her towards the nearby mirror.

She looked at her reflection and hardly recognized the face staring back at her.

Her hair had been brushed back, pinned into place, and plaited into a single braid down her back. Her dress was a pale but pretty grey, the fabric was light, sheer, and flowed around her and was adorned with tiny silver and gold beads. It was well made, if perhaps too light to wear for long in the chill of the North, and originally been intended for her marriage to Robert, in which the wedding would have been in the much warmer Storm's End. Drawing a slow breath, pushing away thoughts of things that no longer were, she reached up and touched the necklace hanging about her neck. It had belonged to her mother and it bore the sigil of her House. A House she would soon no longer be of. For soon she would cease to be Lyanna Stark and would become Lyanna Martell, wife of Prince Oberyn Martell.

Staring harder at herself she made a low sound, reaching up to pull her hair free despite the protests of the Septa, Lady Maege and the handmaidens. She grabbed a brush, straightening her hair before she set about braiding it herself, the style one she had worn often and was much more her than the style these women had woven. One that she had seen as a child in a painting of one of her ancestors. It was a style worn, nearly three centuries ago, by a man, many said, that had surrendered without a fight. Many would say she was doing the same. Surrendering.

Agreeing to this marriage even though she did not wish to marry Oberyn.

But she was not her ancestor.

And this was not surrender.

This was doing her duty and Gods help Oberyn if he thought she was going to be a gentle, simpering fool of a girl. Because that was not who she was.

She was Lyanna, the She-Wolf of Winterfell, and she would show the Dornish Prince that she would not easily bend to him or his will.

Once she was finished with her hair she regarded her reflection and, from the corner of her eye, saw Lady Ashara smile approvingly. Clearly the Dornish woman found it acceptable that she took some charge of her appearance. With a deep breath, Lyanna turned to the Septa, who was frowning but wisely said nothing before leading her from the room and through the hallways to the great hall. She might not be having a Northern wedding like her parents had had but by the Gods Old and New she was having it Winterfell and that, alone, was a victory.

Rickard was waiting for them at the doors and he smiled as he looked at her. "My little Lya," he said softly, hugging her close and pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "You look so much like your mother the day I married her."

Lyanna forced a smile.

She didn't want to be compared to her mother. Not today. Not when she was marrying a man who would take her so very far away. A man who didn't even want her in the first place. "Let's just...Let's just get this over with, hmm?" She took hold of his arm. "The sooner the better."

Rickard looked like he wanted to say something but didn't. Instead he merely did as she asked.

The doors to the great hall opened and with a deep breath Lyanna walked along side her father, head held high, refusing to show any sort of fear or shame. She was a Stark and Starks were as strong as winter. That did not mean she didn't grip Rickard's arm tightly, or glanced at her father's face from the corner of her eye, drawing strength and support from him, as they moved through the space in the center of the room, the center of the group of those who had gathered for the wedding, approaching the spot where Oberyn waited with the Septon.

Oberyn was dressed in a red tunic with golden hems. His cloak, golden and emblazoned with the sigil of House Martell, hung from his shoulders and made him appear regal. Upon his chest he wore a golden broach with a large ruby at its center, a sun pierced by a spear, the sigil of his house. His dark hair had been combed and braided back, making his dark, nearly black eyes stand out even more, and the stubble that had graced his cheeks only hours ago had been shaved away, leaving his face bare and smooth, making it easy to forget that he was nearly ten years her senior.

When they reached her betrothed, Rickard looked at Oberyn, steely grey eyes met black, held for a moment before Rickard bowed his head to Oberyn and stepped away, silently giving his only daughter to the Dornish Prince.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the Septon declared and Lyanna closed her eyes for a moment, only opening them when she heard Oberyn move. She stood, stiffly, as he took his cloak off, draping it about her shoulders before standing at her side, taking her hand in his and lifting them as was customary.

"Your Graces," the Septon said with a respectful bow of his head to Rhaegar and Elia. "My Lords, my Ladies, we stand here in sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever."

The Septon took a strip of simple white cloth, meant to symbolize the purity and binding of their union, wrapping it around their hands, a symbol of their union, tying it in a knot as he spoke. "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words."

Lyanna drew a low breath as she and Oberyn turned to face each other. His expression betrayed nothing of his true feelings as they spoke together.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger."

"I am hers..."

"I am his..."

"She is mine..."

"He is mine..."

"From this day until the end of my days."

They turned to face the crowd and cheers erupted as people clapped and smiled.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

The feast to celebrate the wedding was, as far as Lyanna was concerned, extravagant. The great hall was warm and lively, people talking, eating and drinking. There was music and dancing and it really should have been quite enjoyable yet she sat at the head table, next to her new husband and felt as though it was all meant for someone else. This was not the feast she would have chosen. She would have done things simpler. Less pomp and flare. There would also have been fewer nobles, no matter how traditional it was to have them present, and she certainly would not have let Ned convince her father that it was perfectly fine for Robert to attend.

Her gaze slid across the room to where Robert was sitting, half drunk already and groping one the serving girls. Ned was doing his best to keep his friend under control or, at the very least, from making a scene and drawing Rickard's attention. She still wasn't certain what her father had been thinking, agreeing with Ned about Robert attending the wedding, but she wasn't about to ask, since it no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things.

She had just started to drum her fingers on the arm of her chair when, thank the Gods, Benjen appeared at her elbow, a grin on his face and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"I came to steal a dance," Benjen said as he took Lyanna's hand, his gaze going to Oberyn. "That is if your husband don't mind."

Oberyn barely spared them a glance, giving a wave of one hand while lifting his wine glass with the other. Lyanna rolled her eyes and rose from her chair, letting Benjen all but drag her to the dance floor. He must have had this planned because they no more reached the open floor when the musicians began playing a jaunty tune that had Lyanna laughing as Benjen immediately pulled her into the steps of the dance, one their mother had taught to them when they'd been little.

It was easy, in those minutes dancing with her little brother, to forget that in a few days she would be leaving Winterfell, leaving her family, for Dorne. As Benjen hugged her close, spinning her in a wide circle, the music changed, slowing down and Lyanna started to take a step back towards the head table when a hand touched her arm, cupping her held gently and holding her in place.

"Perhaps...I could have...a dance as well?"

She stiffened at bit at the sound of Robert's voice, looking up at his face, which was coloured by the wine he'd been drinking all evening. She immediately wanted to refuse, to remind him of what had happened between them only that morning, but she knew it wouldn't look well to say no. That he could easily become belligerent or worse so she forced a smile and nodded, not unaware that Benjen seemed to linger a moment longer before he stepped aside, letting Robert take his place.

As the Storm Lord pulled her into his arms she noticed two things immediately. The smell of wine and the stench of perfume, meaning he'd found more than one way to drown his _sorrows_. Trying to ignore both smells she allowed Robert to lead their dance, sloppy as it was given his state, and glanced briefly towards the head table, towards Oberyn.

She was surprised to find him watching them over the rim of his glass, eyes hard and face unreadable. For a moment she thought he looked angry but then realized that he was no doubt watching Robert closely for any sign of aggression. After what had transpired that morning it wasn't surprising and, as Robert spun her, she managed to catch sight of Ser Lewyn, near the table where the royals sat, also watching closely.

When Robert's hand, which should have remained on her back or hip, kept drifting lower until finally Lyanna jerked back, nearly pulling out of his arms. "Stop," she hissed under her breath hoping Robert would listen and knowing, full well, that he likely wouldn't. "I am _married_ now. You take liberties that you've already been warned about."

Robert snorted though his hand stopped its wandering, resting lightly on her hip, staring at her with slightly glazed eyes.

"Were that the...the...Seven were kinder. Today would be our..." He burped and her nose immediately wrinkled. "Wedding."

"The Gods, be they the Old or the Seven, are never kind." Lyanna knew that all too well. If they were then this wedding would never have happened. Hells, if they were, she never would have married at all.

Robert grunted, pulling her close again, and she felt her stomach roll at the scent of wine on his breath. "They aren't..." He burped again. "This won't make...won't make you happy, Lya."

She frowned.

"What won't?"

Robert nodded his head toward the head table and Oberyn. "Him. Being married to him."

Her frown deepened. "You don't know that."

"Do...so..." He swayed slightly and for a moment she worried he was about to collapse but he quickly righted himself. "We'd have been...happy together."

She sighed and drew away from him once more.

"You don't know that either," she said firmly, truthfully. "We could have hated each other."

He shook his head, burping again. "I know. Because I...I love..."

"No you don't." Her voice was sharper than she'd meant it and his gaze narrowed unexpectedly. "You love who you think I am."

His grip on her hand tightened and she winced at the sharp bite of pain. He opened his mouth to retort but a rich, warm voice cut him off.

"Pardon, Lord Baratheon, but I was hoping to share a dance with my good-sister."

Both Lyanna and Robert looked to find Rhaegar standing next to them, smiling softly and watching Robert with those bright lilac eyes. Lyanna smiled immediately, thanking the Gods that it was Rhaegar who'd interrupted them. Robert might have snapped at any other man but not the Crown Prince. Before Robert could respond, Lyanna pulled away from the Storm Lord, still smiling, extending her hand to Rhaegar. "Of course, Your Grace," she said politely, letting the Crown Prince lead her a short distance away, before their dance began.

It was a simple dance, well known to nobles and smallfolk, and it helped put Lyanna at ease.

"If you will pardon my saying, Lady Lyanna," Rhaegar said softly, taking care not to be overheard by those dancing around them. "But it was a mistake, on your father's part, letting Lord Robert attend today."

"You will not hear me argue." She suddenly realized that her tone and words could easily be taken the wrong way. "I mean..."

Rhaegar shook his head with a smile. "You'll not hear a chastisement from me for speaking honestly, my Lady." He spun her and she giggled, reminded immediately of the way Brandon would dance with her. "I believe you will thrive in Dorne."

"Do you truly?"

Rhaegar nodded.

"Women have more rights; they are not treated as property or lesser beings." He gave a small smile. "I believe a headstrong, young Northern woman will certainly thrive and grow in such a place. Even married to Oberyn."

She frowned a tiny bit. "You think ill of him, Your Grace?"

His head moved in silent negative. "Oberyn is who he is, as my wife often tells me. He is not an easy man to like but he will never treat you poorly. He will most likely encourage you in whatever endeavours you take whereas men such as Lord Robert, or any other Lord North of the mountains of Dorne, would seek to stifle you."

Lyanna gave a small nod of understanding. Oberyn would continue to be the man he was, married or not, but he wouldn't expect her to be someone she wasn't. It was a calming piece of information.

When their dance ended, Rhaeger led her back to the head table, giving Oberyn a nod before slipping back into the crowd. As Lyanna took her seat she looked at her husband. He was sipping his wine, either ignoring her or not caring that she had returned to the table, his dark gaze fixed on something or someone in the crowd. With a deep breath she decided it didn't matter. She had just reached for her wine glass when someone shouted out from the back of the hall.

"I believe it's time for the bedding ceremony!"

Lyanna stiffened almost immediately and beside her she felt Oberyn still. She hadn't given any thought to the bedding ceremony. It was not a tradition often upheld in the North. Something that had come to Westeros with the Andals and the Faith of the Seven. It was something she thought was cruel and unnecessary. A woman was nervous enough on her wedding day why in the name of the Gods was it seen as acceptable to subject them to such a thing.

People were smiling and laughing, clearly thinking it a grand idea that the bedding ceremony take place but Lyanna saw several people look uncomfortable. Including Ned and Rhaegar.

She glanced at her husband and saw, to her surprise, a dark scowl had graced his features.

When Oberyn set his glass down on the table it was forcefully and rattled the table, the banging sound causing everyone to still and fall silent, looking to the Dornish Prince, uncertain as to what provoked such a reaction. He stared back at them, dark eyes cold and devoid of any humour. "There will be no bedding ceremony," he spoke calmly, icily, surprising not only her but obviously everyone in the room, his gaze daring anyone to question him.

"Oh, come now," that voice belonged to Robert and he took a staggering step towards the head table. Lyanna didn't care what anyone said, or who she insulted in the process, she would _not_ permit her former betrothed to touch her should the bedding ceremony take place despite what Oberyn had said. "It is tradition, Prince Oberyn! And traditions must..."

"Perhaps you did not hear me clearly, Lord Robert," Oberyn said as he slowly stood, gaze fixed firmly on Robert. "There will be no bedding ceremony."

Lyanna found herself holding her breath as she looked from her husband to Robert, seeing the rage in Robert's sky blue eyes. He was not accustomed to being told no. It was the surest way to infuriate him and she waited for the fallout of that rage.

Robert made a low sound. "It is a..."

"It is not a Dornish tradition." Oberyn held his ground, refusing to be swayed by anything, even in the face of the Storm Lord's rage and Lyanna found herself breathing again as it became clear that her husband would not be moved on this issue. "Nor, I've been given to understand from Lord Eddard, is it a Northern tradition. Therefore the bedding ceremony will not take place."

"Prince Oberyn, the bedding ceremony..." the Septon, standing off to one side, started to interject but Oberyn shot the man a glare and he immediately fell silent.

"This Gods be damned ceremony is not happening!" Oberyn's voice had risen, only slightly, in volume and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

Everyone was silent and Oberyn took that as their acceptance of his decree because he looked at his sister. "Elia," his voice was softer now, as was his gaze. "If you and Lady Ashara would kindly tend to my wife, I will join you in the wedding chamber in a few minutes."

Elia nodded and rose from her seat, calmly walking to the head table, Lady Ashara following closely behind. Lyanna stood as the Princess reached the table, not surprised when Elia took her hand in hers and slowly led her from the hall. She could hear people murmuring as the doors closed behind them and she only relaxed once they were halfway down the hall.

"Should have known my brother would do something like this," Elia said softly, letting go of her hand only to wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. "He was positively furious after my own wedding when I told him of what the bedding ceremony was."

Lyanna blinked. "He...He didn't know?"

Elia gave a small smile. "He did not stay that long passed the binding ceremony of my wedding. He was not...overjoyed by the idea of my marriage to Rhaegar. Argued with our mother about it for days. So when I told him what he had missed by not lingering at the feast...well...as I said, he was furious."

"It's a horrid tradition," Lyanna found herself saying, venom dripping from her words. "One that should have been done away with long ago."

Elia's smile widened. "You sound like Oberyn."

That made Lyanna snort in a very unladylike fashion as they entered the wedding chamber. The room was warm, a fire having been started some time ago, and had purposely been set up for the newly married couple. A quick glance at the bed and Lyanna felt some of her nerve start to slip. This was the room in which she would cease to be a child. Cease to be a virgin. Something must have shown on her face because Elia quickly turned her so she was facing the Princess.

"It's okay to be afraid," Elia spoke softly, taking Lyanna's hands in her own. "I was absolutely terrified on my wedding night and Ashara was nervous when she gave up her maidenhead."

Lady Ashara snorted as she stepped forward, reaching up to carefully unbraid Lyanna's hair, her purple eyes sparkling. "Nervous only because I knew the man could never take me as a wife if our tryst was ever discovered," she said with a shake of her head, setting the beads from Lyanna's hair on the nearby table. Lyanna blinked in surprise as she looked at Lady Ashara, who seemed such the proper lady that learning she had lost her maidenhead, willing done so, was shocking, even if the woman was Dornish and their ways were different than the rest of Westeros. Lady Ashara must have caught her expression because she laughed softly.

"I was little older than you, Lady Lyanna," she explained as Elia stepped away, fetching something from the bed. "And he...well...much older. Old enough to perhaps know better but he was gentle and kind to me. I do not regret my decision."

"You loved him." Lyanna couldn't help but smile at the idea of being able to give such a thing up to a man she loved. It might make the whole situation easier.

Lady Ashara smiled, almost sadly, reaching up to comb out Lyanna's hair so that it hung in thick, dark waves around her face. "I love him still," she said as Elia returned, carrying a nightdress. "I suppose I will always love him, even if he is not free to love me in return."

Elia reached out, giving Lady Ashara's hand a comforting squeeze and Lyanna saw then that the two were as close as she and Maege Mormont were. Like sisters.

"Now," Elia said, breaking the quiet moment that had settled over the room, drawing Lyanna's attention back to her. "Let's get you into something more comfortable, hmm?"

With Elia and Lady Ashara's help Lyanna stripped from her wedding dress and donned the nightdress, feeling more clothed in it than she had in the gown. Elia brushed her hair back, giving her a sweet and tender smile all while taking her hand. "Everything will be alright," she said as Lady Ashara stepped back, waiting for Elia by the door. "Oberyn...he will be as gentle as he can be. He'll not purposely hurt you but...there will be some pain and discomfort no matter how gentle he is."

Lyanna gave a nod. "I do recall some of my mother's teachings on...on the marriage bed." She was trying to sound braver than she felt, because for all her outward appearance of calm strength inside she was afraid and quivering. Elia must have known, had probably done the same thing, because she smiled and gave Lyanna's hand a reassuring squeeze before kissing her cheek in a sisterly manner.

"You will be just fine." Another reassuring squeeze to her hand. "I shall see you in the morning."

Lyanna nodded again and watched as the Princess and Lady Ashara left, the door closing quietly behind them, before she turned, looking around the room as she drew a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She walked across the room until she stood by the foot of the bed, reaching down to touch the blankets and furs, knowing that it was where she would lose her virginity. To a man she barely knew. A man she wasn't even certain she liked. She drew another breath only to hold it when she heard the door open. Her entire body seemed to stiffen in response and she closed her eyes as she listened to a few quick footsteps and then the door close. Forcing her eyes open she turned, oh so slowly, and faced her husband.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant to have this chapter finished and posted so much sooner than this but my laptop decided to act up and the cooling fan fried and I had to get that fixed. Thankfully everything is up and working again and hopefully I'll be able to keep up a normal pace for updates.

Oberyn muttered under his breath as he stalked down the hallway towards the wedding chamber.

He was nearly there when he met Elia and Ashara, the pair heading back towards the hall where the other guests were still lingering. He thought to slip by them, to avoid his sister until the morning, but the Gods decided that was not possible and Elia caught his arm as he tried to pass, pulling him to a stop as her eyes, dark as his own, stared up at him, fixed firmly on his lip.

"What in the name of the Gods did you do," she hissed at him, reaching up with her free hand to grasp at his chin so he could not pull away, thumb pressing just below his lip, making his hiss as the bite of pain.

He tried to tug away, but the look she wore, so very much like that of their late mother, had him stilling. He huffed and let out a long sigh through his nose.

"I thought it best to have a little chat with the Storm Lord. He was the one who chose to turn simple conversation to blows."

Elia gaze narrowed and she spat a curse in old Rhoynish. "I told Rhaegar the man would be trouble. First that stunt with the bedding ceremony and now this. By the Gods I thought the man would at least have been minded better by Lyanna's brother."

She spoke of the man like one might speak an unruly child, needing to be watched by an elder for fear of what they would do otherwise.

Oberyn wondered then if he should tell her of Robert Baratheon's actions that morning. His sister was already fond of his new wife, had told him so just days ago, after watching Lyanna put three men into the dirt in the training yard, it would be amusing to see her reaction, to see her vengeance, against the Storm Lord. For whatever she did Robert would be unable to retaliate or risk the wrath of her husband and, for all his bookish, quiet ways, Rhaegar loved Elia deeply and would not see a slight against her go unpunished.

"Perhaps you ought to tell Lord Eddard to mind his drunken fool of a friend better."

Elia's frown deepened but she chose to ignore his comment. "I assume Lord Robert did not walk away unmarked."

That made Oberyn grin, despite the fact that it pulled at his split lip uncomfortably. "I believe Lord Eddard escorted him to the Maester as I was leaving the room."

Elia sighed and shook her head. 

"A wonderful way to go to your wife. Bloodied by her brother's friend."

"She should become accustomed to seeing me in such a state."

Elia rolled her eyes and released her hold on his chin as she stepped back. "Gods protect us," she muttered with a shake of her head before she gave him a stern look. "Now, go to your wife and, if you've any sense at all, at least be kind to her."

Oberyn snorted but said nothing as Elia and Lady Ashara walked off. He watched his sister for a moment longer before he headed for the wedding chamber. The walk took less time than he thought it would and, as he stood outside the door, he found himself wondering just what awaited him on the other side. Was it the strong, iron-willed warrior who had faced down three squires all for the sake of a friend? Or was it a simpering, frightened child in need of coddling? He knew which he would prefer though he also knew which it was likely to be. For all the strength and courage a woman might show to the world when it came to her first time with a man she quickly became a quivering, frightened little rabbit.

_Damn Doran for forcing this upon me,_ he thought savagely, drawing a deep breath before he entered the chamber.

The room was warm, clearly having been well tending to during the ceremony and feast, and it nearly reminded Oberyn of the warmth of Dorne. Something he had missed greatly during his time, however brief, in the North. He expected her to be lingering somewhere in the room, by the fireplace or window perhaps, but she was not. Turning he was surprised to find her standing near the foot of the bed, clearly having been watching the door for him as she was facing him.

She was wearing a simple nightdress, her dark hair unwoven from its braids to hang loosely around her pale face. Her eyes, those sharp grey eyes like chips of ice in fading sunlight, watched him as keenly as a cornered wolf watched a hunter and he saw a sliver of fear in them, but more than that he saw determination. He saw strength and courage. The same he had seen at the tourney. She held her ground when any other woman would have submitted. Any ground he gained with his new bride would have to be fought for. Would have to be earned.

"Wife."

She snorted and he nearly smiled. Clearly being married would not change her attitude towards him. "Am I to simply address you as husband?" Her tone was waspish and that did make him smile, pleased to see that despite the fear he could still see in her eyes she wasn't about to be cowed by him.

He gave a shrug as he reached up and carefully pulled his broach, the last gift his mother had given him, from his tunic, setting it on the small table. "If you wish," he said as he unbuckled his belt, tossing it onto one of the chairs. "Though you should feel free to call me by my name."

Lyanna made a soft sound but said nothing else, merely watched him as he sat and tugged his boots off, her gaze following his movements even as her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. When he stood again he approached her. Slowly. Like one might a timid animal. He paused a few paces from her, close enough he could reach out and touch, and he regarded her in silence for a moment before he reached up and pushed her hair back, letting his fingers tangle in the dark locks, using his grasp to tip her head back ever so slightly.

"You understand that we are expected to consummate this marriage, yes?"

She gave a faint nod. Her gaze never leaving his.

He made a low sound. "I think it best that you know that under ordinary circumstances I would not take you to bed."

She blinked.

"Well at least you are honest," she said in a tone of voice he couldn't decipher though there was an underlying iciness to it. "More than I can say for most men."

That had him making a low sound. "Most men would have forced you to the bed whether you were willing or not and they'd have called it _duty_ and cared not for your comfort."

She gave him a searching look.

"And are you saying that you will not do so? That _you_ care about my comfort?"

Oberyn saw then what she was searching for. She wanted to know if she could expect better from him than she could have from another man. He tightened his hold on her hair, not enough to hurt her, merely enough to tip her head a little further, leaning in towards her. "I'm saying," he murmured, breathe fanning over her face as his dark eyes seemed to darken further. "That I take care, duty be damned, with those whom I take to my bed."

Before Lyanna could say anything or question him further he slotted his mouth over hers, using her moment of surprise to his advantage, deepening the kiss. She made a low sound and he quickly found one of her hands tangling in his hair, tugging at it lightly while the other hand gripped the front of his tunic. She immediately tangled her tongue with his, a minor display of her refusal to back down, and he was pleased to discover that she had some experience at least, though he doubted she had ever done more than kiss or touch. Despite his claim to Elia weeks earlier of not wanting some mewling child-bride he had to admit to himself that there was a small thrill knowing that he would be Lyanna's first. He rarely had that pleasure, preferring experienced women, but Lyanna seemed determined to not be passive in their coupling and that, to some degree, made up for her lack of experience.

Breaking the kiss with a low sound he slowly relinquished his grip on her hair in order to cup her face between his hands, his hands encircling her jaw, the back of her head, and she made a soft sound, not quite a whine, that she probably wasn't even aware of making. Rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks he regarded her for a moment, her eyes dark as a storm cloud now and a faint blush upon her cheeks. He had to admit, child or not, she was very lovely, he could see why the Storm Lord had coveted her so strongly. It stirred something, a smug satisfaction, to know that he was the one who got to have her. And that, he knew, would drive Robert Baratheon mad.

With a small grin, barely noticeable, he reached down, hands curling around her waist and he lifted her with ease, her weight barely noticeable, and she let out a surprised sound, her hands scrambling to grab at his shoulders, and he couldn't help but chuckle as he easily laid her down on the bed, settling easily over her. She stared up at him, eyes knowing yet timid. He leaned down and brushed soft kiss after kiss to her lips as he slowly reached down and began sliding the skirt of her nightdress upwards.

He expected protests.

He expected her to try and stop him.

He expected the worst and was prepared for it.

He was not expecting Lyanna to lift her hips and yank the fabric upwards, baring her lower body. He was not expecting her to grasp the bottom hem of his tunic and tug it up his torso, her fingers just barely grazing his skin. Her eyes were blazing with unspoken challenge. He made a low sound and sat up on his knees, grabbing his tunic and yanking it up and off his body, tossing it somewhere behind him, watching the way her eyes dropped, her gaze sliding over his torso. He could see in her eyes, as he had seen in many women’s eyes, that she was pleased by what she saw. When her hand lifted, fingers dancing over the nearly ten-year-old scar on his right side, he couldn’t help but shiver.

“A duel with Edgar Yronwood,” he answered the unspoken question in her eyes. It wasn’t by far the only scar he bore, but it was the largest and as her fingers traced the mark he knew he had no fear of her being repulsed by any injury he was likely to receive in the future.

“I’d ask what you were duelling for, but that story is well known.”

He smirked. “Indeed it is.”

It had been the duel with Lord Edgar that had earned Oberyn the title of Red Viper.

Without another word he leaned back down and captured her lips in a searing kiss. She made a low sound in the back of her throat, fierce and needy, before her arms wrapped around him, her nails clawing over his back, making him hiss and nip at her lower lip. He quickly drew back, carefully pulling Lyanna up so she was sitting as he knelt over her, holding her there, gently and slowly, pulling her nightdress off until she was completely bare to him. He tossed the dress aside, not looking anywhere but at her face, not wanting her to become nervous or frightened, at least anymore than she no doubt already was.

Their gazes held as he slowly lowered her until she was sprawled beneath him. He saw the way her arms twitched, a clear sign of her fighting the instinct to cover herself, to shield herself from his view. _Such a strong she-wolf,_ he thought as he finally let his gaze slide downwards, taking in the sight of the girl who was now his wife.

Her body was not that of a grown woman, not yet, but it was well bloomed, her curves beginning to fill out, showing the radiant beauty she would, in time, become.

He slid his hands up her sides, feeling the soft skin beneath his palms and fingers quiver, and, as he cupped her breasts, which were not yet as full as they would likely become, he once more felt a surge of possessive pride that he was the one who got to see her like this. That he was the only man who would ever witness her change from this girlhood state into womanhood.

Her back arched when he palmed her breasts, fingers rubbing over her nipples, a smirk spreading across his face when Lyanna gasped and arched into his touch. Her body shivered and in response to the eagerness he could so clearly see in her face, her eyes having fallen shut, head tipped back against the blankets beneath them, he leaned down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, at first suckling and then flicking lightly with his tongue. Almost instantly he could feel the goosebumps on Lyanna’s body.

He played with it for a moment, then leaned over to do the same to the other, his fingers toying and rolling with the one he abandoned until both were stiff and hard to the touch, until he can hear the hitch in Lyanna’s breathing. Her hands were suddenly tangled in his hair, fingers flexing against his scalp, and he lifted his head, slowly, trailing kisses up her chest, her neck, along her jaw until he captured her mouth again.

As he kissed her he managed to rid himself of his pants and small clothes.

He was already hard and he knew the moment Lyanna noticed, the moment his cock lightly brushed against her thigh, because she stiffened ever so slightly beneath him, a soft sound slipping from her mouth and into his. He lifted his head, breaking the kiss, and looked down at her. She was staring up at him, a hint of wariness in those sharp grey eyes, and he couldn’t help but press another soft, quick kiss to her lips.

“It’s alright, just relax,” he whispered soothingly, one hand slipping down between their bodies, fingers gliding over her stomach, the tips dancing lightly, teasingly, over the lips of her sex, which was already wet. She tensed, though he could tell by the quivering of her body that she was fighting her instincts, she was trying to relax. Knowing it would be best to not let her linger too long on her fears, otherwise this experience would be all the more unpleasant.

With a kiss to her jaw, more to distract her than anything, he sank a finger into her.

She gasped and arched, body shifting beneath his, pressing closer and trying to pull away all at the same time. Pressing his finger a little deeper he could feel the thin barrier that marked her pure. He’d not lain with a virgin since Tyene’s mother. It made that possessive pride swell in his chest once more. Watching her face, watching the discomfort fade, he began to move his finger. A slow glide in and out, letting her grow used to the feeling before his thumb found that little pearl of pleasure just above her dripping core.

A moan was torn from her throat and her hands were on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, her hips rocking instinctively into his touch.

He smiled as he slid a second finger into her, continuing to rub her pearl, increasing her pleasure.

“I…I…” Lyanna’s voice was raspy and her fingers clenched and unclenched on his shoulders.

“Just feel,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her again, sliding his tongue passed her lips to tease her own.

She suddenly tore her mouth away from his, a sharp cry ringing out, her inner walls clenched and tightened around his fingers, her pleasure written clear as day on her face. He smiled as he watched that. Watched how she reacted to what was likely her first orgasm. Watched how she arched and pressed against his hand. Without waiting longer than a heartbeat he withdrew his fingers and carefully guided her legs over his hips, aligning the head of his cock with her soaked core. Leaning down, he gave her neck a gentle nip, as he entered her.

He felt her start to tense but paid that little mind. Instead he drew a deep breath and sheathed himself completely inside her with one thrust. Once he was seated fully within her he held still, knowing from past experience that she would need a moment to adjust to the new, foreign sensation.

The cry that fell from her lips, the tears that dotted her lashes, had him immediately leaning down to press dozens of soft kisses to her lips, his hands running up and down her sides, seeking to sooth her. He waited until her breathing, which had been rapid and more of a pant than an actual inhale of breath, evened out, waited for her fingers to relinquish their fierce, biting grip on his shoulders, waited for her to be ready, before he began to move.

His movements were slow, shallow, being as gentle as he could be. She made a low sound, less pained and more pleased, and he smiled against her hair as her legs, still hitched around his hips, tightened and her hips rocked upwards. He took this, and the way she tangled a hand in his hair, her lips brushing over the skin of his shoulder, as a sign that she was ready for more. Pressing a quick, dominate, kiss to her lips he began to move as he would with any other woman, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his cock back into her. She gasped, pleasure sparking through her, nails racking down his back, digging in just below his shoulder blade, her legs tightening further around his waist, unconsciously pulling him closer.

He groaned at the feel of her. Tight and wet and hot. Her inner walls fluttered around him, making each thrust feel better than the last.

Lyanna arched her neck, lifting up to bite gently at his neck, leaving a line of red marks down to his shoulder, where she sucked a purple mark between the half-moon teeth marks. _She-wolf indeed,_ he thought as he continued to thrust into her, harder and faster, feeling the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, the tightening sensation in his gut and knew he was growing close. With a low moan he supported himself with one hand while reaching down between them, his fingers rubbing over her little bud, not surprised when she cried out, body going taut like a bowstring, back arching, hips rocking against him.

"Oberyn..." Her voice hoarse, a broken sob of pleasure, caught up in a storm that she had never experienced before. "I...I...please I..."

He knew what she was asking for, even if she did not, and he leaned down, kissing her deeply, passionately, fingers never ceasing their ministration on her most intimate of places. “Howl for me.” Two more thrusts and he twisted his hips and pressed against her, and held. “Howl for me, my beautiful she-wolf,” he growled in her ear, twisting his hips, and between one heartbeat and the next, she did, pressing against him, shaking, shattering, her head thrown back as a howl of pleasure tore from her throat and he hissed with her a second later, arching his back, adding a tiny bit of extra pressure, a little more bite to her pleasure, as he found his release, spilling his seed deep inside her.

Being mindful not to hurt her, he withdrew his softening cock before he collapsed to the bed next to her, panting for breath as she made soft little sounds, her eyes closed and face all aglow with pleasure. He reached up, brushing her hair back, watching her eyes flutter open for a moment. The pleasure was still dancing brightly in those lovely grey depths but there was exhaustion as well and he smiled slightly, carefully manoeuvring them until they were resting against the pillows, a blanket drawn up over them.

It didn't take long, after that, for Lyanna to fall asleep, curled up, facing away from Oberyn, breath even and deep. He watched her for a few minutes, taking in her relaxed face, the way her eyelids fluttered as dreams took flight, and he pressed a soft kiss to her hair before he rose and moved away from the bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Lyanna woke with sunlight fanning over her face, warming her and rousing her from a dreamless sleep. She snuffled softly, not wanting to get up just yet, and rolled over, expecting to meet another body, Oberyn's body, only to find the other side of the bed empty. Opening her eyes she started at the space, slowly reaching over and touching the pillow. It was cool to the touch. Oberyn had either risen very early or hadn't slept next to her.

She suspected the latter.

Sitting up, a small twinge of pain between her legs, she looked around the room.

She was alone.

Ignoring the ache, the way her body protested slightly, she rose from the bed, collecting her nightdress and a dressing robe from where were they had been lain on the chest at the foot of the bed, Oberyn's doing no doubt. She dressed as quickly as she could, glancing at the bed only briefly, taking in the blood stain on the sheets before turning quickly away. The stain was a sharp reminder that she was no longer a virgin. She was no longer a child. She was a married woman now. Her hand suddenly rested on her abdomen and she wondered if one night was all it would take for her to become pregnant. She'd heard of it happening of course, new brides becoming pregnant on the night of their wedding.

Shaking her head she told herself that it didn't matter.

Crossing the room to the window she looked out at the fields and distant hills. Soon she would leave the North, her home, and she would never see this sight again. Never would she run through summer snows or ride Winter through the vast forest just to the North of the castle, hoping to catch sight of the wolf pack that roamed there. Soon she would journey to Dorne, where there was sand and sun always. Sighing softly she leaned against the window frame and wondered if there would be time for one last ride through the hills before she had to leave.

A knock on the door drew her from her thoughts and she called out that it was open, uncaring who had decided to visit her.

The door opened and a soft voice sounded from behind her.

"Lya."

A small smile spread across her face at the sound of Ned's voice and she looked over her shoulder. "Good morning," she said softly, not surprised when two maids entered the room behind her brother, one went to tend to the bed, stripping the stained sheets, while the other carried a tray of food to the little table across the room. At her questioning glance Ned gave a small smile.

"I thought we might have breakfast together."

"Should I take that to mean that Robert is still passed out some where in the castle?"

Ned gave a low sound as the maids left. He crossed to take a seat at the table. "The last time I saw Robert was when Father and I escorted him to Maester Luwin after your husband laid him out in the great hall." He shook his head as he poured a glass of water for himself. Lyanna slowly made her way over to take the chair opposite her brother. "Father said he intended to speak to Robert about his behaviour."

That had Lyanna snorting as she plucked a piece of bacon from the tray, nibbling on it as she regarded her brother. "It was stupid to let him attend the wedding, Ned."

Ned sighed and sipped his water. "I...I won't deny it was foolish, but Lya I thought he would be better behaved. I thought his affection for you would..."

"If you were to watch the woman you claimed to love marry another man what would you do, Ned?"

He was silent and she saw in his face that he finally understood why she'd said it was so stupid to let Robert attend the wedding. "I'm sorry, Lya," he finally said, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. "I..."

She shook her head, giving his hand a squeeze, smiling softly. "It's fine, Ned," she said as there was a sudden knock on the door. She gave him a question look but he merely shrugged. "It's open!"

When the door opened and Elia and Ashara entered, Ned immediately stood, bowing his head and greeting Elia with a soft "Your Grace."

Elia smiled. "I apologize, Lord Eddard, I came to invite Lyanna to have breakfast, but it seems you have beaten me to it."

Ned looked from Elia to Lyanna and back.

"Pardon, Your Grace," he said with a small smile, gaze darting briefly to Ashara. "But I was just going to check on Lord Robert."

Elia made a soft sound as she folded her hands in front of her skirt. "Do pass my apologies to Lord Robert," she said with a smile that Lyanna could tell was anything but genuine. "My brother is...harsh at times. There was no reason for words to turn to blows."

Ned nodded but Lyanna could tell that it would not be an apology that the Storm Lord was likely to hear. Her brother gave her a nod and then bowed to Elia before he took his leave. 

"You're brother is very quiet," Elia said once the door had closed behind Ned, her smile changing to a more genuine one. "I understand now why they call him the Quiet Wolf."

Lyanna looked at Elia and gave a small smile. "We Starks come by our titles honestly," she laughed and Elia giggled.

"Fair enough," the Princess said as she crossed the room to sit in the chair Ned had occupied only minutes earlier. "I think it will be interesting to see if your children are called Sand Wolves instead of Snakes."

That had Lyanna stilling as she reached for the water pitcher. Something, she wasn't certain what, must have shown on her face because Elia suddenly reached out and took her hand. "I know this is all still so new," the Princess said with a gentle smile as she laced their fingers together. "That you've given no thought to any children, not yet at least, and I'm sorry if I've caused you any discomfort, Lyanna."

Lyanna quickly shook her head. "No, no," she hurried to reassure her good-sister. "It wasn't...I just..." She paused and drew a deep breath. "I did think...briefly...about the children I may have...I just..."

Elia's smile widened slightly, an understanding looking graced the Princess' face, and she gaze Lyanna's hand a small squeeze. "Even if you have none of your own," Elia said softly, eyes shining with something akin to hope. "I know Oberyn would not be opposed to you treating his girls as your own."

Lyanna gave a small barely there smile at the mention of Oberyn's daughters.

"Do you think they'll like me?"

Elia chuckled and nodded. "You're fierce. Much fiercer than they believe women from North of the mountains to be. They are fierce as well, in their own ways, and grow fiercer every day. I've no doubt that you will find common ground with the girls."

Ashara laughed suddenly, drawing both Lyanna and Elia's gazes. "Pardon," she giggled as her eyes danced with mirth. "I was but picturing the torment Oberyn is in for, especially when Obara learns how skilled Lyanna is with a sword or when Nym discovers how good a rider she is. The girls will be demanding to know why he didn't bring Lyanna to the Water Gardens sooner."

Elia laughed and Lyanna found herself smirking.

"Well," Elia said as she patted Lyanna's hand. "The only shame in all of that is I won't be there to see it for myself. Though I suspect I'll receive many letters complaining of it from Oberyn and Doran both."

Lyanna couldn't help but laugh. Her marriage to Oberyn may not have been what she had wanted but at least she had some comfort in knowing that it wouldn't be as terrible as she'd known a marriage to Robert Baratheon would have been. She had already, after all, begun to grow a friendship with her new good-sister and, Gods willing and if Elia was right, her stepdaughters would also accept her for who she was. It was a satisfying thought.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Lyanna spent the better part of the morning with Elia and Ashara, the two only leaving when a servant came to fetch Elia, something about Rhaegar needing to speak with her. Once they were gone Lily had arrived with her clothing and Lyanna had never been so happy to see her trousers and tunic. After the previous day of being forced into a dress, that she was now considering feeding to the kennel dogs, she just wanted to wear something that made her feel like herself.

Once dressed and her hair pulled back into a loose braid Lyanna had gone to find her father, only to discover that he was talking, privately, with Rhaegar, and had asked not to be disturbed unless it was of the utmost importance. She'd huffed at the servant who'd informed her of that, one who'd come with the Royals, before asking him to tell Lord Rickard, after his meeting, that she wanted to speak with him. Without a backwards glance she had gone on her way.

She'd had only a few plans for her day, given that she hadn't truly known what to expect for the day after her wedding, and since the first of those plans was not to happen until later she decided to move on to the next once since nothing could interrupt it.

She made her way through the hallways and out to the courtyard, from the corner of her eye she noticed Oberyn in the training grounds, sparring with his uncle. Lewyn was laughing and shaking his head, saying something to her husband that she couldn't hear across the distance but it had Oberyn throwing his head back and laughing. She found herself smiling as she made her way across the yard towards the far wall. Passing beneath the alcove and between the two stone direwolves she opened the old door there and stepped through.

The passage and stairway before her were lit with torches, as they always were, and as she made her way down the stairs she felt a familiar sense of ease settle over her. Many would say this was the most cold and depressing place in all of Winterfell and, though part of her agreed about the cold, she found, as always, that the crypts was a place of peace.

She walked down the long stretch of room, passed tombs of Starks long dead, reaching one that, by the tradition of her family, should not have possessed a statue of the one lain in the tomb there but, as per her father's wishes, the statue stood tall. Carved of pale marble it bore a striking resemblance to the woman it was meant to represent. The man who had carved it had done such a remarkable job capturing the likeness of the woman. It was nearly as though she was actually standing there in the flesh.

Reaching in her pocket Lyanna withdrew the only flower left from that ridiculous crown Rhaegar had given her. She carefully laid the still vibrant flower in the statue's upturned palm, a small, sad smile gracing her face.

"Hello, Mother," she said softly, looking at the stone face of Lady Lyarra Stark, fingers dancing over the carven hand as though it were actually Lyarra's.

"I've gotten married. Though not to Robert." 

She wondered how her mother would have reacted to her father's decision. Would Lyarra have agreed to it? Lyarra had never been fond of the idea of her marry Robert, though Lyanna suspected that was because her mother, like herself, had seen through the bright smile and charismatic nature of the Storm Lord and seen the truth of him. So it made Lyanna wonder what Lyarra would have said in regards to Oberyn. Would she have told Rickard he was a fool and refused to see her only daughter married to the Red Viper of Dorne? Or would she have seen what Elia and Rhaegar saw? A man who would treat her as an equal instead of as a pretty toy to grace his arm?

"His name is Oberyn," she continued softly. "His sister says he's a good man, and I've seen moments that prove it. I...I know he already has three daughters, and Brandon would sneer and call them bastards but...but they are my husband's child and no matter how he came to have them I will never treat them any differently than I would my own. I...I will care for them as though they were my own...if they will permit me."

She paused and regarded the stone face for a moment. What would her mother have said to that news? That her new good-son had three bastard daughters whom he was raising. Three daughters whom he would raise his true born children with. Would her mother have been accepting of it? Or would she have thought, as most North of Dorne thought, that it was wrong?

"Elia says they will adore me, simply because I do not fit what a _proper lady_ should be." She paused again, biting at her lip. "I know you loved me as I am but I also know you wished I had been a little more like the Tully girls. A little more lady like. But...But Rhaegar says that I will thrive in Dorne. Because of who I am. That I won't be _just_ Oberyn's wife. And I think...I think you would have approved of that."

She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the last time she had seen her mother or heard Lyarra's soft laughter. The last time her mother had said _I love you, my little pup_. She opened her eyes and felt a tear trickle down her face.

"I wish you were actually here," she whispered, reaching up to touch the smooth, carven cheek. "Wish you could tell me what to do or...or just tell me everything would be okay."

Silence filled the air for a moment and Lyanna made a soft sound. "I miss you. So much." She rubbed her thumb over the marble as another tear glided down her cheeks. "And I love you." She touched the necklace she wore. Her mother's necklace. "I will carry your memory with me and...and should the Gods bless me with a daughter of my own I will gift her your name, Mother. I promise."

She closed her eyes again, bowing her head as she prayed silently. When she opened them again she wiped away the tears before slowly making her way from the crypts.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit of a filler mixed with a bit of foreshadowing because I needed someway to carry into the next chapter without just leaping into it.

It wasn't until after supper that Lyanna had the chance to speak to her father.

From what she'd understood from the whispers of the servants, Rickard and Rhaegar had been in conference most of the day along with a few other lords, though no one seemed to know just what had been discussed. Which was surprising. Usually castle gossip spread like a summer wildfire. And while she was admittedly curious as to what was going on she pushed thoughts of it from her mind as she entered her father's study.

Rickard stood at the window, a wine goblet in his hand, the frown on his face a familiar one. She saw it often whenever her father had a decision to make that he found either distasteful or extremely difficult.

"If you're going to spend most of the night over thinking something," she said with a teasing tone as she walked over to sit on the edge of his desk. "Then perhaps you should be drinking water."

Rickard chuckled and turned away from the window. "Being Lord of Winterfell is never an easy task, Lya. Sometimes a drink or two helps the mind see through problems." He smiled as he walked over to his desk, setting the goblet down before looking at her again. "But you didn't come to hear me bemoan my duties. What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"I..." She paused when her hand slid on a piece of paper. Looking down to move it to another corner of the desk she paused as words jumped out at her. _Rebellion_. _Death of the King_. _Support for..._ She picked it up and started to read it but only got a few lines in when Rickard seemed to realize what she had and quickly snatched it from her.

"That is not for you," Rickard said firmly, his tone icy and unlike any she'd ever heard from her father.

"What...that spoke of a rebellion." Lyanna stood as her father crossed the room, locking the piece of paper in a cabinet. "Of a king's death and Northern support for...for something. Father...Father tell me you aren't planning some...some sort of rebellion or..."

"This does not concern you, Lyanna!"

Lyanna flinched as though slapped and stared wide eyed at her father.

He'd never spoken to her like that before.

Rickard made a soft sound and he rubbed a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry," he said as he walked back over, reaching up to cup Lyanna's cheek, his eyes reflecting his guilt and apology. "I did not mean to shout." He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "I just don't want you to be wrapped up in this, Lya."

"Father, what..."

"Things are being set in motion," he said softly, cutting her off and making her frown. "Things I do not want you to be part of."

"Father..."

"Please, Lyanna. Leave this alone."

She stared at him for a moment before reaching up and covering his hand with hers, leaning into his touch. She wanted to press, to find out what her father was hiding, what he was planning, but she could see it in his eyes. He was trying to protect her. To keep her safe. She gave a small nod. "Alright," she said, knowing he needed to hear the words. "I'll leave it alone. Just...Just promise me you'll be safe about...whatever it is you're doing."

"I'll be as safe as I can be." Rickard pressed a kiss to her forehead and she smiled as he took a slight step back. "Now, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Lyanna drew a deep breath and picked at a nonexistent thread on her tunic. "I...well...I'm leaving for Dorne soon and I...I wanted to take a weirwood sapling with me."

Rickard blinked.

"Lya..."

"I know Dorne is like the rest of the South and worships the Seven," she said hurriedly, afraid her father would say no, that he would insist she worship her new husband's Gods but she just couldn't. All she knew as the Old Gods. She refused to pray to Gods she didn't believe in. "But I am of the North. I can't pray to what I don't believe in. I just...I want to be able to teach my children the faith of their forefathers...if I...if I have children. And..."

"Lyanna!"

She stopped speaking immediately, looking at her father with wide eyes, practically holding her breath as she waited for him to speak again. Rickard reached out and took her hands in his. "Lya," he said as he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "If you wish to take a sapling with you then you may. I am not upset by you wanting to hold on to our beliefs and our traditions, I am proud of you for it."

A smile spread across her face and she quickly hugged her father. "Thank you," she whispered pressing a kiss to his cheek, which had him smiling and laughing and holding her close.

"Oh my darling," he breathed, cheek pressed to her hair. "I am going to miss you so very much."

Lyanna felt as though she'd been dunked in the cold waters of the river but let nothing show. Hearing her father remind her that, very soon, she'd be leaving the North was a hard thing. It made everything so very final. She drew a shaky breath and hugged him tighter as she tried not to think of how very different her life was about to become.


	11. Chapter 11

Lyanna was heading for the stables, thinking to visit Winter before she retired for the night, when she happened upon Oberyn. She noticed, almost immediately, that he seemed both lost and annoyed. Drawing a deep breath she approached him. "My Lord?"

Oberyn looked at her and she could see his annoyance was giving way to anger.

She'd seen Brandon with a similar expression a few times and it had never ended well. "My lord, is something wrong?"

He made a low sound, a mix of a snort and laugh, and all but rolled his eyes.

"I was attempting to make my way to the godswood and seem to have gotten turned around."

Lyanna frowned. It was odd for a man for worshipped the Seven to wish to visit the godswood. "Why did you not ask one of the servants to point the way?"

Another snort. "I did," Oberyn said as he shot a passing maid a sharp glare and Lyanna wondered if perhaps the woman had been the one he'd asked. "Three different servants. I think they purposely led me astray."

That, in all honesty, did not surprise Lyanna. Many Northerners did not care for Southerners venturing into the godswood. It stemmed from the old days when the Andals invaded and destroyed nearly all of the godswood in the South, replacing them with Septs and the Faith of the Seven. She drew a deep breath and reached out, taking hold of his hand. "Come on," she said, surprised that he allowed her to tug him along. She led him through the courtyard and to the gateway leading to the godswood. A small part of her protested, rebelled against the idea of taking a Southerner into the godswood, but she reasoned that Oberyn was not just any Southerner. He was her husband. In marrying her he had married a part of the North. He had every right to visit the godswood.

Stepping into the godswood she felt a sense of calm that only came to her here.

As he stepped around her she let go of his hand, watching him as he slowly followed the darkened path towards the mighty weirwood tree looming in the center of the godswood. He moved quietly, steps slow and his gaze remained fixed upon the weirwood, its crimson eyes staring back. She wondered then, as she watched the man that was her husband, what he felt in this place. Moving from where she stood she made her way, slowly, to stand beside him before the weirwood.

"It's strange," Oberyn said unexpectedly, breaking the silence, causing Lyannna to look at his face. "I feel as though I am an outsider intruding into a place I do not belong."

She fought down her smile. Many Southerners shared that sentiment when visiting the godswood. Her father always said it was because many did not have godswoods of their own and were unaccustomed to the warmth and nature that the woods possessed. Her mother had said it was because their ancestors had abandoned their faith for the Seven and the Old Gods made certain that they felt some form of shame when in their woods. Lyanna wasn't certain which theory she believed but she lightly touched Oberyn's arm.

"You've married a Northerner," she said softly, looking back at the weirwood's face, seeing in it the heart of the North. "You're hardly an outsider now."

Oberyn said nothing for a long while, just stared at the weirwood.

"The legend says the faces were carved into the trees, correct?"

Lyanna smiled as she nodded. "By the Children of the Forest."

He made a low sound. "Why?"

She shrugged. "To represent the Gods. To give sight to those who could not see." She glanced at him. "Did your Septon or Septa not teach you this?"

Oberyn chuckled. "You'll find that in the South little is taught of your Gods."

That did not sit well with her. She thought of a future in a foreign land with foreign Gods and how her children, should she ever have any, would be taught of only the Seven. She drew a deep breath and moved away from her husband, moved to sit beneath the branches of the weirwood, leaning back against the trunk, looking at Oberyn, who watched her with dark eyes.

"Why did you wish to come here," she asked him as she ran her fingers absently over a root of the tree that had broken up through the earth, pale as the rest of the tree, tiny veins of red through the bark. "Most Southerners never wish to visit a godswood."

"You're very direct."

Lyanna rolled her eyes. "And you are avoiding the question. Why did you wish to come here?"

Oberyn regarded her silently for a moment and she wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

"I'm a curious man by nature," he finally said as he looked back at the weirwood, at the carven face that seemed to be staring back at him. "And my eldest daughter once asked about the godswood but there was nothing I could tell her that she could not find in a history book. I wish to be able to convey a more accurate image for her."

That had Lyanna smiling. "Is she as curious as you, my Lord?"

Oberyn snorted, a small grin gracing his face, and shook his head. "I believe she wanted to know simply because we do not have a godswood in either Sunspear or the Water Gardens." He paused, looking at her. "And you do not need to call me _Lord_. We are married, after all."

It was Lyanna's turn to snort.

"Married." She shook her head, looking up at the weirwood, searching for some sort of guidance. "I've not deluded myself into thinking this marriage is anything more than what it is."

Oberyn's expression was unreadable.

"And what is it?"

"A way to pacify my family and for your brother to secure an alliance with the North."

"You do not think we might share something someday?"

Lyanna snorted again.

"Your good-brother told me that you are who you are, that nothing would change you, and I, being your wife or not, do not aim to be the fool who tries."

Humming softly, Oberyn looked from her to the weirwood and back again. "You're more honest than most women I've...known."

She rolled her eyes at his choice of words as she stood, brushing dirt and moss from her legs. "Most of those women foolishly thought they could tame the Viper of Dorne. A wolf is not so foolish. A wolf does not seek to tame."

Oberyn smiled as though amused by her words.

"And what does the wolf do?"

It was Lyanna's turn to smile, a wolfish smile, as she stepped by him and down the path, pausing long enough to speak over her shoulder before leaving her husband alone in the godswood.

"A wolf conquers."


	12. Chapter 12

After weeks of traveling, nearly a month and a half, Lyanna had never been so happy to see a city looming on the horizon. Sunspear was less than half-a-day's ride from where they were resting and part of Lyanna just wanted to ride ahead, to get to the city so that she could properly rest. And bathe. She was starting to feel as though she was more dirt and dust than flesh.

In the shade of a canopy set up by one of the guards escorting the Dornish caravan back from the capital, Lyanna sat peeling an apple, staring across the sand and long grass field that separated her from her new home. Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, even across the distance that separated her from the city she could clearly see the Spear Tower, tall and gleaming in the midday sun. There were dozens of stories told about Sunspear and, at the moment, Lyanna didn't care to recall a one. She could see the foreign beauty of the city, even from where she sat, and knew that even with all its stories, she would easily form her own opinion of it and the people who dwelled there.

And that had her thoughts turning to who awaited her in the city.

Doran, Oberyn's elder brother and the Prince of Dorne.

She glanced towards where Oberyn was standing with his horse, talking to one of the guards, and wondered what sort of reception she was likely to receive from her good-brother. Elia had assured her, when they'd spoken briefly of him, that Doran would be perfectly charming and diplomatic towards her but she still wondered. He was a man well into his years, set in his ways as much as her father, so what would he think of her? Would she just be his brother's child-wife or would she be seen as the person, the strong, independent Northern woman that she was?

"Princess Lyanna?"

It was only her name that had her looking up, still unaccustomed to being called _Princess_ , a small frown on her face as she stared up at the dark haired man with a brooch of the purple and silver star of House Dayne pinned upon his tunic. "Lord Arden." She quickly smiled as she recognized Ashara's elder brother.

"May I sit, my Princess?"

Lyanna made a soft sound and patted the blanket beside her. "You don't have to keep calling me princess, Lord Arden," she said as he sat, continuing to peel her apple. "Gods know I'll never become accustomed to it."

Arden grinned ever so slightly. "You never know, Prince... my Lady." She almost smiled at the way he caught himself. "My lady wife easily accustomed to being called Lady."

That had her smiling.

She remembered Ashara telling her that Arden had married for love and not because their parents had insisted on some union to bind their family with another. His wife, a woman named Edina, had been the daughter of a horse trainer that had been in the employ of House Dayne for years. It had been a love of opposites attracting and, if Lyanna was honest, she envied Arden for that. For being able to choose whom he married and not just forced into something and expected to just blindly accept it.

"Maybe I should ask her for the secret," she joked, watching his grin widen. "Maybe then I might accustom myself to being called a princess."

"I'm sure my wife would welcome your company. She often tells me she wishes she had a lady friend who would properly ride with her and I've heard from Oberyn that you are an excellent rider." He glanced to where Winter stood grazing amid several of the smaller sand horses, looking even larger than he was. "Though perhaps we should get you a sand horse first."

"Hush you," she swatted at his arm playfully, shaking her head even as his mention of Oberyn praising her riding skills continued to flutter through her mind. "I raised Winter from the time he was a foal. Helped even to break him to bridle and saddle. No sand horse could ever compare to him."

Arden chuckled. "My Edina would take quite well to you indeed."

A comfortable silence fell over them for a few minutes and Lyanna was reminded of how she and Ned had often just sat together, neither speaking, just relaxing. When Arden spoke again it was in that calm, soft way he shared with his younger brother, his gaze watching the skin of her apple slowly peel away from the fruit.

"Did you know there is an old story that if you peel an apple completely, without breaking the skin, the way it falls will give you the initial of the person you will marry?"

She couldn't help the way her lips quirked or the way she snickered.

"Bit late for that."

Arden laughed. A deep, warm, rich laugh that reminded her of his brother, his smile wide and eyes full of light. "The Gods are odd creatures, my Lady, and you are young. They may decide you worthy of a second marriage."

Her hands paused and she looked at Arden with wide eyes. "Did you just..."

Arden shrugged, looking to where Oberyn was, still talking with one of the guards. "It is no secret that our Prince has a temper and has, on more than one occasion, entered a fight with little provocation." He looked back to Lyanna, his deep violet eyes seemingly darker. "I love Oberyn, like a brother, we have been the closest of friends since we were children. But I am often the first to admit that his temper, his very personality, may well be his undoing one day."

"You're saying my marriage will not last long then?"

Arden shrugged. "I am merely saying do not be surprised if it does not. Oberyn has made enemies, many enemies, over the years. And some day, not even the threat of his poisoned blades or Doran's wrath will keep him safe."

She made a soft sound, finishing her task, watching as the apple peel, one long strip of red skin, fell against her knee. Against her better judgement she glanced at it, trying to see a letter in its shape but seeing only a continuous loop, an _O_. Something must have shown on her face because Arden laughed and patted her shoulder kindly. 

"Perhaps the Gods find the thought of Oberyn being married humorous," he said, still grinning, while Lyanna snorted and rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her apple before standing, picking up the apple peeling as she moved. Ignoring Arden's chuckles, because really if the Gods found anything about her marriage humorous it was how unhappy both she and Oberyn were likely to be, she went to where Winter stood, her loyal mount lifting his head at her approach, happy to accept her offering of the apple skin.

She continued to eat her apple as she stroked a hand down Winter's neck, glancing around the small camp, only to pause as Oberyn went riding off towards the city. She frowned and glanced at Arden, still sitting beneath the canopy, a frown gracing his features. He shook his head, standing and going to the guard Oberyn had been speaking with. She could tell by the look on his face that he was not impressed with whatever it was the man said and by the time Arden crossed to her his frown had deepened.

"It seems, my Lady," Arden said as he reached out to pat Winter's flank, that frown still fixed firmly in place. "That your husband has grown bored with waiting for the caravan to continue on and has decided to return to Sunspear unaccompanied."

Lyanna rolled her eyes, taking a final bite of her apple before feeding the rest to Winter. "Of course he did," she muttered, not angry with Oberyn, she didn't expect him to have told her himself or to ask her to go with him, she was merely annoyed with herself for not doing the same thing earlier when she'd thought of it.

Arden patted her shoulder again, his expression turning more sympathetic now. "Don't fret," he said with a small smile. "I'll make certain you don't get lost on your way to the Sun Tower. I imagine you'll be allowed to rest and bathe before heading for the Water Gardens."

Lyanna gave a small nod. "Thank you, Lord Arden."

At least he was kind enough to take into account that she'd never been to Dorne before and would thus be unfamiliar with its cities or where to go. He smiled at her again before excusing himself to speak to a few of the guards about soon continuing on to the city. As he left her, she found her gaze drawn once more to the city. In a few short hours she would be there, would greet her new good-brother, and Gods only know what else.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time they reached the city it was early evening, the sun beginning to dip in the distant horizon, Lyanna was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to have a bath and fall into bed. But the caravan was greeted at the gates by two of Prince Doran's guards who informed Arden, who had spoke with them, that the Prince wished to speak with is good-sister. Arden had gone with them, escorting her in place of Oberyn who, they were informed by the guards, had left the city earlier for the Water Gardens.

Now she stood outside Prince Doran's solar, having been told by a servant that someone would fetch her when the Prince was ready to see her. Arden had had to leave her shortly after that, his presence needed at the Spear Tower, but he'd promised to visit her before he left for Starfall in a few days. She wished that he had stayed with her, at least until Prince Doran called for her, she would never admit it but she was nervous and afraid. 

She began to pace, attempting to smooth her hair down a bit with one hand while brushing dust from her skirt with the other.

Under different circumstances she wouldn't have cared what impression she gave to the Prince of Dorne.

She wouldn't have cared what he thought of her.

But he was more than just the Prince of Dorne.

He was her good-brother and, despite her wild streak, as Ned called it, she did recall her mother's lessons of how one was supposed to receive their in-laws. She didn't want Doran to view her as some wild, Northern child he'd forced his only brother to marry. She wasn't certain how she wanted him to view her just that she didn't want it to be poorly.

"Lady Lyanna?"

The voice, strange but feminine, caused her to turn and she found herself gazing at one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen.

The woman's skin was a warm brown, like freshly turned earth and her hair hung in long black braids around a heart shaped face. Deep brown eyes, warm and welcoming, met her gaze and a smile spread across the woman's face.

"Welcome, Lady Lyanna," the woman said, still smiling, walking closer, the golden fabric of her dress flowing around her like water. "I am Mellario of Norvos. And, I believe by the laws of your country, your good-sister."

Lyanna blinked and quickly remembered that Arden, during the ride to the city, had spoken of Prince Doran's wife. A wilful and beautiful woman from Essos who Prince Doran had fallen in love with and married, bringing her home to Sunspear where she bore him a daughter, Princess Arianne, and, from what Arden had said and the look of the woman, she was soon to bear a second child.

With a soft inhale of breath Lyanna remembered to curtsy, bowing her head respectfully, remembering her mother's teachings even if she rarely followed them. "Princess."

Mellario laughed softly, the sound like bells, and shook her head. "I should hope such formalities are not needed between us," she said as she closed the distance between them, taking Lyanna's hands in hers. "In Norvos our being married to brothers would make us sisters. I should like to think we might share such a relationship."

Lyanna couldn't help but smile at Mellario's words.

Before she could speak, however, a door opened and a servant emerged from the solar.

"Pardon, my Princesses," the young man said with a charming smile. "But Prince Doran would speak with Princess Lyanna now."

Mellario made a low sound, smiling affectionately as she rolled her eyes, clearly more accustomed to such things and she released Lyanna's hands in order to reach up and tuck Lyanna's hair behind her ears, lifting Lyanna's chin with her palm as she held the grey gaze of the younger woman. "Doran's bark is worse than his bite," she assured Lyanna with a smile. "You will do fine."

Lyanna gave a small nod and, with a deep breath, followed the servant into the solar. 

The man bowed to her before he left, closing the door behind him.

Drawing another deep breath she looked around. The room was spacious, furnished with little more than a desk and a few chairs, and was lit by candles, though the fading sunlight still shone through the windows and, when she looked to the open balcony doors, she found a man standing there. A man who could only be Prince Doran. Looking at him, his back to her, she was once more gripped by the uncertainty of how he would receive her.

Doran was the Prince of Dorne, ruler of his country as his mother had been before him, and was twenty years her senior. He was a man well into his years and she worried, despite Mellario's words of assurance, how he would look upon her. How he would view the child he had agreed was a suitable wife for his younger brother.

She used the moment to study him.

Dressed in dark red and gold he struck quite the figure against the backdrop of the sunset sky. His hair, once as dark as Oberyn's, was streaked heavily with silver, and combed back, dozens of braids resting at his shoulders. He wore no crown or circlet, not like Rhaegar had, but there was no denying he was essentially royalty. Even just standing there, looking out at his city, it was obvious he was a leader.

She cleared her throat, trying to figure out what to say to him, only to not have to speak because Doran turned.

When he turned, fully facing her, she saw a man clearly wearied by his duties but not weak. Never weak. In Doran she saw a younger image of her father. Strong and noble and honourable. His eyes, those dark Martell eyes, studied her for a moment, and she held her ground beneath his unwavering gaze. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

Did he see the child bride he had forced his brother marry?

Did he see a Northern Lady who would never fit in to Dornish society?

Or did he perhaps see her as Rhaegar and Arden had, as a woman who would thrive in Dorne?

"Lady Lyanna."

His expression softened as he spoke her name and she immediately thought of Ned, the way he could be closed off and distant one minute but warm and open the next. When Doran smiled, she saw Elia in his face, the same welcoming warmth, and he stepped forward to embrace her as though she were his own sister. It was instinct that had her wrapping her arms about him, just as easily as if she were hugging one of her own brothers.

"Welcome, little wolf," he spoke the words into her ear and she could feel he was still smiling. He took a small step back, hands remaining on Lyanna's shoulder, still smiling as he regarded her. "I trust your journey was well?"

She gave a small nod. "It was...fine. I've never travel so far before."

Doran chuckled as he stepped back, moving towards the desk and gesturing for her to join him. "Oberyn told me you refused a sand horse, preferring your Northern mount. I must say, you would find traveling in Dorne much easier with a sand horse."

Lyanna couldn't help the amused twist of her lips. "I raised Winter, my Prince, he's been my horse for years. I see no sense replacing him until I absolutely must."

Doran chuckled as he poured two glasses of water, handing one to Lyanna, regarding her silently for a moment as he sipped his own drink. "He may not adjust well to Dorne," he said and though he spoke of Winter, Lyanna heard something else. She smiled and turned her cup between her hands.

"I think he will be just fine. Northerners are bred strong."

That earned her an amused grin.

"So I have heard, little wolf." He set his cup down. "I have also heard that the North breeds wilful wildness."

She sipped at her water, taking in his words for a moment, before she approached the desk, setting her cup down as she met, and held, his gaze. "The North, the truth North, my Prince, breeds many things. Some are skinners, some are wolves. But all share common traits. Honour. Loyalty. Fierce protectiveness."

Doran gave her a look, calculating but open, and his smile widened slightly. "Fine traits indeed." He set his cup down and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Now, you must be tired from your travels. I shall have one of my men escort you to the Water Gardens."

She nodded and he walked her out of the solar, not surprised to find a servant waiting on the other side of the door. Doran relayed his instructions to the servant who nodded and led Lyanna away. She glanced back at her good-brother only once, finding him watching her, face unreadable and she suddenly wondered if perhaps the man she'd met, the kind, welcoming man, was not but a mask. A way for Doran to gauge what sort of person she was.

Frowning slightly as she followed the servant she tried not to let that bother her. She had never cared what others thought of her and she was not about to start. Not even for a Prince.


	14. Chapter 14

Lyanna woke with the early morning sun, her rest broken by sunshine across her face and the feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar. Sitting up, the thin blankets pooling around her waist, she looked around the room. Massive and furnished in what she assumed was Dornish style she felt completely out of place. Drawing a deep breath she rose from the bed, picking up her dressing gown from the nearby chest and wrapping it about her as she moved to stand by one of the windows.

The view was of the coast and she found it to be one of the most beautiful views she had ever seen.

It was so different from the Northern coasts she had seen.

She had been to both the Bay of Ice and the Bay of Seals and the waters there, cold as the North itself, had been murky and an icy, bluish-grey tinted with deep greens, with massive ice chunks and unforgiving waves that crashed upon the rocks with such violence that it was as though the very sea was attempting to destroy the coast itself.

But here, where the Sea of Dorne met the waters of the Summer Sea, the colors were blues in varying shades that started in the palest, nearly translucent hue where the water lapped at the shoreline, and only grew darker and darker as it seemed to stretch on forever until it met the warm blue sky on the far horizon.

The gentle breeze, blowing in from the waves, carried with it the scent of the sea and the cry of sea birds. Leaning against the side of the window she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. It was such a change from the crisp, cool air of Winterfell. So different from the chill of the morning. Could she grow accustomed to living here? With all the obvious differences between this place and the only home she had ever known?

She opened her eyes just as the breeze carried the sound of ringing steel to her ears.

It was a sound she had grown hearing, a sound she knew well and, managing to peer around the corner by her window she could just make out a training yard and the figures sparring there, one, a tall, dark skinned man, wielded a sword while the other, barely more than a slip of a child, was twirling a spear neatly.

Without much thought she turned away from the window and hurried to dress, choosing simple clothing and a pair of well worn boots. She tied her hair back with a strip of leather, grabbed her sword belt and left the room without a backwards glance. As she walked she tugged her belt around her waist with practiced ease, checking it wasn't too loose or tight as she made her way, albeit a tad slowly, through the halls of the Water Gardens and out to the courtyard. She prided herself on only having to stop twice to ask directions.

Stepping out into the yard she drew a deep breath, the scent of earth and leather and steel as familiar here as it was in Winterfell and that, more than anything, helped ease the ache for home that had been building since the day she had left the North. Stepping out from the shadowed doorway she moved along the edge of the yard, watching as the man and child, a girl who looked to be no more than ten, continued to spar. The girl was quick and fluid, moving with a grace that came from years of training, her spear flashing in the morning light. Even though she did not know the girl there was no mistaking who she belonged to.

The girl was clearly Oberyn's.

Tall yet thin, with mousey brown hair pulled back into a long, unkempt braid, the girl looked very much like Oberyn. She even wore the same fierce yet passionate expression Lyanna remembered from her sparing match with Oberyn at Harrenhal.

Standing back, watching the match, she frowned when she noticed the girl making small mistakes that, in the end, led to her being disarmed.

"You leave your right side open when you lunge," she said without really thinking about how her words might be received. Especially by the child of her new husband. Sharp eyes turned to her and, despite the iciness she saw in the girl's gaze, she did not back down. "It's why you lost your grip on your weapon."

The girl scowled. "And how would you bloody well know?"

"Obara!" The man snapped at her, his tone reprimanding and, though the girl flinched, Lyanna saw the fire still blazing in those dark eyes.

"It's fine," Lyanna said to the man, smiling slightly, trying to show that Obara's waspishness hadn't bothered her. She looked back at Obara, who had retrieved her spear and was still glaring daggers at her, her smile never wavering. "You think I'm a simpering, pale faced little flower, don't you? Think I'm like all the other ladies north of the mountains that you've heard and read about."

Obara practically sneered, the shaft of her spear resting against her shoulder, making her look even more like her father. "So what? Everyone knows Northern _ladies_ are nothing but simpering fools."

"Obara." The man all but growled at the girl but again there was nothing apologetic about her expression and, with a heavy sigh, the man turned to Lyanna. "My apologies, Princess," the title rankled Lyanna and she almost corrected him before remembering that she was, now, indeed a Princess. "I have tried to teach Obara manners as well as fighting skill but it seems that I have failed in that task. I am Areo Horth, swordmaster to House Martell and personal guard of Princess Mellario and her daughter, Princess Arianne."

Lyanna bowed her head respectfully. "A pleasure to meet you, my Lord."

Areo chuckled and shook his head. "I am no Lord, Princess. I am but a man who followed a deeply beloved friend to her new home."

"And I am hardly a Princess," Lyanna replied, still smiling, not surprised to see Obara roll her eyes. "Little more than a she-wolf in fine clothing."

Obara muttered something that, though Lyanna didn't catch it, had Areo glaring at the girl and snapping her name fiercely.

"You will show more respect than that, Obara Sand," Areo all but snarled and Obara's glare intensified. "She may not be your mother but she _is_ your father's wife and you owe her more respect than what you have offered thus far."

"I owe her nothing!" Obara's glare turned to Areo then. "She _is_ nothing more than a northern whore!"

Before Areo could speak, before he could reprimand Obara again, Lyanna looked at the girl, at her new stepdaughter, and made a soft sort of humming sound in the back of her throat. "That may be," she said, not surprised at the way Areo looked at her, clearly taken aback by her words. "Gods know given the circumstances of why Oberyn and I wed it's not surprising that half or all of Westeros thinks such. But I'll tell you this, little snake," she drew her sword, watching the anger in Obara's eyes shift slightly, her gaze becoming more curious. "Whore or not, I can still best you."

Obara scoffed. "You? Best me?" She shook her head, twirling her spear artfully. "I doubt that."

"Then why don't you find out?"

She was prepared for the attack, knowing her taunt would work, easily parrying the strike from Obara's spear, using Obara's momentum against her and sending the girl spinning away from her. When Obara attacked again Lyanna wasn't surprised that the girl's movements, though not as skilled or refined, were near mirrors of Oberyn's. With a few more years of training Obara would be a formidable fighter. Continuing to spar with the girl, Lyanna took note of Obara's weaknesses, where she left herself open and when, and, after a few minutes with neither gaining ground, decided it was enough.

Waiting for Obara to lung again she sidestepped, blocking the attack with her sword before grabbing the shaft of Obara's spear, using the girl's momentum to yank the weapon away, tossing it aside before the tip of her sword pressed against the girl's throat.

Obara, panting for breath, no longer glared at Lyanna. Instead her eyes were widened and full of surprise. Lyanna smiled as she lowered her sword. "I told you," she said as she collected Obara's spear, returning it to the girl. "I could best you."

"I did not know women north of the mountains were taught to fight." Obara held her spear lightly, the shaft once more resting against her shoulder, eyes shining brightly. "Where did you learn?"

"Ser Maron Cassel, the Master-at-Arms of Winterfell trained me on my father's orders."

Obara blinked. "I thought northern ladies weren't allowed to learn to fight."

"Do you know what House I come from, little snake?"

Obara nodded. "House Stark."

Lyanna's smile widened a tiny bit. "And what is the sigil of House Stark?"

Obara grinned, clearly seeing where this was going. "A wolf."

"A direwolf," came a quiet, yet correcting, voice and Lyanna looked to see a dark haired girl, no more than six, standing in the shade off to one side, beside her sat a pale haired toddler. The girl who'd spoken was smiling slightly, clearly proud to have known the correct answer. "A grey direwolf on a field of white."

Lyanna nodded and pretended not to notice when Obara stuck her tongue out at the other girl, who was likely one of Oberyn's other daughters. "And what is said of the members of House Stark?"

The dark haired girl's smile widened. "That you've the blood of wolves."

Another nod as Lyanna looked back to Obara. "So you see, little snake, I'm most certainly not like other ladies north of the mountains."

Obara smiled. "No," she agreed with a giggle. "You are not. Can you show me that trick you did, when you blocked me the last time?"

Lyanna laughed and nodded, glad to have made, however small, the right impression on her stepdaughter. Falling into the proper stance she gestured for Obara to do the same, moving at a half speed in order to show and teach the girl. She heard the other girls cheering Obara on and it made her smile widen. Perhaps those who'd told her she would do well in Dorne had been right.


	15. Chapter 15

By midday Lyanna had managed to show Obara how to better block strikes and how to fake a lunge to the left before striking out from the right. She had also shown the girl a stance that would give her more strength in her attacks, telling her that as a woman she would likely be smaller than the men she would one day fight and, as such, she had to learn to use her size to her advantage.

When they took a break, to rest and get something to eat, Lyanna sat in the shade, wiping sweet from her brow, reaching for a cup of water when the tiny blonde girl was suddenly there beside her, looking up at her with deep blue eyes. And, despite them being blue and not dark, she knew they were Oberyn's. The girl smiled at her, in the way that only a child so young could, and lifted her arms up. It was a clear, universal sign that even Lyanna, who hadn't been a mother, could recognize.

Smiling, she lifted the girl into her arms, letting the girl settle comfortably on her lap before reaching for the water, offering the cup first to the girl, who accepted with a happy smile.

"Her name's Tyene," Obara said as she and the dark haired girl joined them at the table. "And this is Nym."

"Nymeria," the dark haired girl corrected, flipping her hair over her shoulder, eyes bright and clever. "Like the Rhoynar Queen."

Lyanna smiled. "I've read the stories of Queen Nymeria. They were always my favourites."

"Did the North not have women warriors?" Obara asked as she grabbed a blood orange and began to peel it.

Shaking her head Lyanna took the glass of water from Tyene when the girl handed it back to her. "Sadly none that are of note, though there was Brave Danny Flint."

"Who?" Nymeria seemed genuinely curious and Lyanna's smile widened.

"She was a woman, a member of Clan Flint who disguised herself as a man and joined the Nights Watch."

Obara tipped her head at this, clearly as curious as her sister. "Why would she do that?"

"She wanted to protect the realm and her clan."

"So she became famous for doing what thousands of others have probably done?"

Lyanna shook her head.

"Sadly, no," she said as Tyene reached for an apple but her arms were too short so Lyanna picked it up and handed it to her. "Danny Flint's story is a sad one."

"Sad?" Tyene looked up at her, blinking and head tipping to one side like a curious bird. "Why sad?"

"I can sing the song written about her if you'd all like," Lyanna offered and all three girls nodded, making her smile widen.

Drawing a deep breath she hummed the tune of the song for a moment before she actually began to sing.

_"Hear you now this sad lament_   
_of brave young Danny Flint_   
_Whose parents died of sickness_   
_when she was not but ten_

_So off young Danny went to live_   
_With her wicked uncle_   
_who one night stole her maidenhead_   
_so into the North she fled_

She hummed the tune again, swaying softly, remembering how her mother had often sang the song to her and her brothers.

_"North she fled to take the black_   
_and leave her troubled past_   
_She cut her hair and changed her name_   
_to Danny Flint the brave_

_At the Nightfort Danny took the oath_   
_thought a boy by all_   
_and she hoped to live forevver_   
_as a brother upon the Wall_

Humming again Lyanna watched as Obara and Nymeria leaned forward, eyes wide as they listened, waiting to hear how the song ended and, Lyanna knew, they would not care for the unhappy and sad ending of the tale of Danny Flint. Drawing a deep breath she continued singing.

_"Now Danny was so diligent_   
_to keep from watchful stares_   
_But one night as she bathed_   
_her brothers saw her body bare_

_These men were quick to break their vows_   
_as they threw her to the ground_   
_and they took her honour and then took her life_   
_while brave Danny Flint made not a sound_

_Oh Danny Flint you'll never escape_   
_the Fate the Gods have written_   
_And life must seem the cruellest jape_   
_oh brave young Danny Flint"_

As she finished the song she saw the way Obara's eyes had widened and how Nymeria's jaw had dropped open. While Obara just looked surprised, clearly shocked by the fate that had befallen Danny Flint, Nymeria's surprised quickly turned to outrage on behalf of the heroine of the song. "They raped and murdered her?!" The girl was shaking her head, looking angry and disgusted all at once, dark eyes flashing with fire. "What...Why would...That's..."

"That," came a deep and rich voice from a few feet away, causing their heads to all turn, Lyanna's gaze fixing immediately on Oberyn who, dressed in a simple white tunic and dark trousers, was leaning against on the pillars. "Is what happens when you allow brutes and rapists and murderers to take up a cause they do not truly believe in. The Wall has been manned for thousands of years and, at a time, only those who'd proven themselves worthy were allowed the task. Danny Flint was the victim not only of the Black Brothers of the Watch but of the decent of an order that was once honourable and noble."

"Someone should have stopped them!" Nymeria stomped her foot as she stood. "Bad enough her own flesh and blood hurt her but to be betrayed by...by those she thought were her friends! It's...It's not fair!"

"Life seldom is," Oberyn said as he straightened, walking over to run his hand over Nymeria's hair. "It is a harsh lesson to learn, but better you learn it from songs and tales than like Danny Flint learned it."

Nymeria huffed and hurriedly returned to her seat, grabbing what was left of her orange, glaring at it as though it was what had offended her. Obara bumped her shoulder against her sister's, a silent display of companionship before dragging Nymeria back to the training area, clearly wanting to practice what Lyanna had shown them, and Lyanna smiled as she watched them, her attention quickly shifting when Tyene squirmed, arms outstretched to Oberyn.

"Papa, Papa, Papa," the girl practically squealed, hands grabbing at her father even as he chuckled, stepping over to lift her from Lyanna's laps, holding the tiny girl close even as he took the seat previously occupied by his eldest daughter. Tyene giggled and smiled as she clung to him, obviously beyond thrilled and it made Lyanna's smile.

"So," Oberyn said as he picked up a few grapes, Tyene snagging a few from his palm, looking at Lyanna with a soft smile. "Areo told me you've taken to training Obara."

Lyanna shrugged, pouring a fresh glass of water, sipping at it lightly. "I merely thought to show her a few things I've learned."

Oberyn chuckled as he glanced over to where Obara was showing Nymeria what she had learned. "Something she will benefit from, no doubt." He regarded Lyanna for a moment. "I must say, I did not expect you to...get on so well with the girls."

Lyanna's smile faded immediately.

"You mean you thought I would judge them because they are illegitimate."

It was not a question nor was it an accusation.

She was merely pointing out the most logical option his words provided. She saw in his eyes that she had the right of it and she huffed, gaze going to Obara and Nymeria, watching the two of them spar. It was a fairly even match even with their size differences. What Nymeria lacked in size she made up for with speed. She drew a deep breath and looked back to Oberyn, who was watching her, expression unreadable and it caused anger to flood through her. Just because she was not Dornish did not mean she shared the same view on bastards as the rest of Westeros. She'd thought he would have realized that she was, in many ways, different than others.

"A child's circumstance of stance, true born or not, is hardly the fault of the child," she said curtly, standing slowly, her gaze never leaving Oberyn's. "I will never treat your daughters any differently than I would my own, though from what your sister told me in the capitol I should not expect to have my own so I should content myself with building relationships with and helping to raise the few you already have."

Without another word she stepped away from the table, moving with quick strides to where Obara and Nymeria were still training, though she saw the way Obara glanced from her to Oberyn and back again, clearly have heard everything and uncertain what she should or should not say. Lyanna helped to ease that uncertainty by drawing her sword and telling Obara that she could show her how to unarm an opponent. The girl nodded and Lyanna drew a deep breath, using the lesson to forget, for a time at least, the conversation with Oberyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since Martin has not yet provided us with his lyrics for the song of "Brave Danny Flint" I took to Youtube and found this lovely fanmade [version](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4rCQBI3tGQ) and used it as the one Lyanna sings in this chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

Days gave way to weeks and weeks gave way to months and, during that time, Lyanna grew to accept and love her life in Dorne. She spent most days helping to train Obara, riding through the sands of the desert with Nymeria, teaching Tyene to read and write. She formed a wonderful relationship with Mellario, who had become as close to her as a sister, and been there for her good-sister when Mellario had brought a son, Quentyn, into the world. Doran, seeing something in her that she herself did not yet see, had taken her under his wing and was teaching her as he taught his eldest child, Arianne, to rule and govern a nation. He told her, one evening when they sat together in the Water Gardens, that his plan was, in a few years, when she was ready, to appoint her a seat on his council as it was fitting for a Princess of Dorne to hold such position.

Her relationship with Oberyn, if she dared call it a relationship, was as rocky as it had been when they'd married, though they could now at least speak civilly to one another. They even had dinner from time to time, when Oberyn was actually at the Water Gardens and not off running around the world to Gods only knew where. She had no illusions, no fantasies, that their marriage would ever be what Doran and Mellario shared or what her parents had, but she was, she supposed, rather content with it.

It was worlds better than anything she might have had with Robert Baratheon.

She wrote letters, to her father and Benjen in Winterfell, to Brandon in the Riverlands, where he was preparing to marry Catelyn Tully, and to Ned in the Vale, telling them how she was and of her new family. The replies she received told her that they had all expected quite a different reaction from her concerning her new home and life. It made her laugh and, when she told Mellario of it, they laughed together.

One afternoon, while sitting with Mellario, watching as Arianne and Tyene ran about, playing together, Lyanna looked at Quentyn, nestled happily in his mother's arms and smiled as she held her hand out, letting him tug at her fingers. Mellario chuckled, balancing Quentyn with practiced ease in the crook of one arm before reaching out and tucking Lyanna's hair behind her ear. "Has Oberyn written you of late?"

Lyanna shook her head. "A letter for the girls but apparently I do not warrant a letter."

Mellario sighed and shook her head. "Fool of a man doesn't realize what he is throwing away."

"I knew what I was getting into when I married him, Mel. I don't intend to try to change him. I'm not foolish enough for that."

Mellario huffed, she had never cared for the way Oberyn treated Lyanna, or that he had not changed his ways since marrying her. She went to stand, carefully passing Quentyn to her, before stepping across the room to fetch a tray of fruit and cheeses. "Some of the servants are whispering about why Oberyn seems so content to keep from your bed."

As she sat back down, tray placed carefully beside them, she reached out and picked up a slice of apple, taking a bite before she hummed softly. "At the rate the rumours are going they'll become completely outlandish by week's end."

"Let them talk, Mel. It doesn't matter to me."

"He is still your husband, Lya."

Lyanna rolled her eyes as she rocked her nephew, the babe reaching up to grasp at her hair. She carefully untangled his fingers and kissed at the tiny fingers, making him grin and giggle, before looking at Mellario. "In name only," she said as she carefully pulled her hair from Quentyn's grasp when he yanked. "We may have consummated the marriage but, honestly, Mel, I do not expect much from him."

Mellario sighed and reached finished off her slice of apple. "I still say he is a fool of a man."

They looked at one another for a moment before they began laughing. Lyanna smiled and looked at Nymeria and Arianne, watching them and, for a moment, felt a pang of pain that she would never see a child of her own grow and play. She drew a deep breath and changed the subject to Arianne's name day which was fast approaching.

And so life went on.

It was wonderful and she was happier than she had been in a long time.

And if she'd learned anything in her short life it was that things tended to go wrong just as one was at a peak of happiness.

It was late one evening, the sun slowly sinking beyond the distant hills, Lyanna was in her chambers, curled up on the bed, humming softly, a lullaby she'd long forgotten the words too, with Obara and Nymeria curled up next to her and Tyene resting on her chest when a soft knock sounded at the door. "Enter," she called out, lightly running her hand over Tyene's curls, looking up as the door opened and Doran quietly stepped into the room. "This is an unexpected visit," she said softly, not wanting to disturb the girls. Her smile slowly began to fade when she saw the look on Doran's face. "Doran? Doran what's wrong? Is...Is it Oberyn? Has something happened to..."

Doran shook his head. "No, no, little wolf, my brother is fine. He is still at Blackmont as far as any are aware."

Lyanna frowned. "Then what is it? What's happened?"

Doran sighed and looked at his nieces for a moment and, when his gaze swung back up to her, she saw something in his eyes. Something that looked like regret.

"I've received a letter from King's Landing, from Elia." He drew a deep breath and Lyanna felt her heart start to sink, knowing something was wrong, was extremely wrong. "It's...It's your father and your brother, Brandon."

Lyanna moved then, carefully moving Tyene off her and to the bed before climbing from it, moving towards Doran. "What?" She couldn't keep the panicked note from her voice. "Are they..."

"They are alive. They've been seized and taken to the capitol." Doran caught her hands and held them, not letting go, especially when he felt them start to tremble slightly. "But...King Aerys has...he has declared them enemies of the realm and betrayers of the crown who were planning a rebellion to overthrow Targaryen rule."

"Wha...That's...That's insane, it's..." Lyanna shook her head and felt tears prickle her eyes even as she made a soft, pained sound. "No, no they've...someone made a mistake. Doran, my father...Brandon...they would never..."

"I know." Doran squeezed her hands. "Lord Rickard is an honourable man who would not risk his family in such a manner." He drew a deep breath and squeezed her hands again. "There will be a trial, little wolf. In a few days time."

"A trial...but what..."

"Given their status, the Small Council will likely rule in favour of sending your father and brother to the Night's Watch."

"The Watch..." Lyanna shook her head. "But that's..."

"It will keep them alive, little wolf." Doran released one of her hands, reaching up to cup her cheek, thumb sweeping over the soft skin. "Which is a more preferable outcome than...than the alternative."

Lyanna nodded, trying to calm down even though she felt like everything was spinning out of control. "I...I don't know what to do."

"You keep calm," Doran said as he glanced over at the bed, at his nieces. "And focus on taking care of the girls. I will write Elia and ask for more information."

"Thank you." Lyanna hugged him and, before she could step away he stopped her.

"I will also write to Oberyn, ordering him back to the Water Gardens."

"Doran, that isn't..."

"He is your husband, even if the two of you are comfortable forgetting that, and he needs to be here for you."

She knew she would not be able to persuade him otherwise so she nodded. "Very well." She stepped back when he let go of her arm. "You'll...You'll let me know what you learn?"

"As soon as I can, little wolf."

He left as quietly as he came and Lyanna covered her mouth with both hands as she moved, slipping from the room and onto the small balcony, tears spilling down her face as she thought of her father, of her brother, locked up in King's Landing, accused of the terrible crime of betrayal. She stood there, looking out at the darkened ocean with bleary eyes, praying to the Gods, Old and New, that Doran was right. That the trial ended with her father and brother taking the Black because the thought of anything else was far too crippling.


	17. Chapter 17

The next several days felt like years.

Lyanna was anxious and nervous, trying to do anything to keep her mind from wandering to her father and brother, to what fate the trial would end in. But in the end her thoughts always circled back to it. She lay awake at night, worrying and praying, crying at the mere thought of any harm befalling her father and brother. And, as the sun rose on the fourth day, she found herself worrying for Ned and Benjen. What if whatever fate Aerys and her minions found for Rickard and Brandon did not satisfy the Mad King? What if he decided they were to be punished as well?

Her mind was so focused on dark and twisted thoughts that, during her training lesson with Obara she was distracted to the point that a quick, and normally easy to block, strike sent her tumbling to the dirt. She heard Nymeria gasp and Tyene cry her name but she waved at them, saying something about being fine. It was Obara, frowning and eyes narrowed, who had the courage to say what others had been thinking but dared not voice.

"You're not fine," the girl snapped, helping her to her feet. "You've barely eaten the last few days. And it's obvious you aren't sleeping. What's going on, Lya?"

Lyanna shook her head. "It's...It's nothing. Just a...a family matter back North and I...well...I'm worried is all."

Obara's frown turned into a scowl, clearly she was not satisfied with the answer, but before she could press on Areo stepped into the training yard, a grim look on his face.

"Pardon," he said with a slight bow, dark eyes fixing on Lyanna, whose heart leapt into her throat. "But Prince Doran has requested your presence Princess."

Swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat Lyanna nodded, handing her sword to Obara and murmuring that she would be back soon. Following Areo through the halls of the Water Garden she tried not to think the worst. It was entirely possible, and reasonable, that Doran had been right. That the King would sentence Rickard and Brandon to take the Black. It would keep peace in the realm after all and, if there was one thing she'd learned, it was that a ruler always tried to maintain peace.

Reaching Doran's solar she nodded to Areo who, before departing, lightly squeezed her shoulder, his grim expression did not change but Lyanna did not let that sway her as she entered the room. Areo had not been born or raised in Westeros. He would not understand that, to many, taking the Black was the best sentence.

The solar was quiet, the only person in the room was Doran, he was seated at the table, head bent, but even so she could see the frown upon his face. And that, more than anything, was what caused the blood in her veins to run cold. Something, some instinct, told her that this was not good. That whatever had caused him to summon her here could hardly be good news of any kind but she walked, slowly, steadily, forward, until she was before the table.

"Doran?"

His head slowly lifted and his eyes, those deep, dark eyes that he shared with his brother, pierced her like an arrow. She saw in those dark depths that his news was not what they had hoped. Not what she had hoped. "I am so sorry, Lyanna."

It was the use of her name, when he had always called her _little wolf_ , was what caused tears to spring forth and roll unbidden down her face.

"No." She shook her head, refusing to listen, to believe. "No. No. No."

"The trial was..." Doran paused, drawing a deep breath, his gaze unwavering but Lyanna saw his sympathy, his regret at having to tell her what they had both hoped would not come to pass. "It was little more than for show. Aerys had the sentence chosen all along it seemed."

"Doran...please..."

"I am sorry."

An angry, hurt and sorrowful sound passed her lips as she shook her head again, the tears running like rivers down her cheeks. "Please...no...Gods no..."

Doran rose, stepping around the table to pull her into his arms, she clung to him, face pressed into his shoulder, sobs racking her body. "Did..." she whispered the words, voice raspy and hoarse and, though she feared the answer, she pressed on. "Did they suffer?"

"Lyanna..."

"I need to know!" She pulled back, nearly completely out of his embrace, eyes fixing on his, gaze pleading even as tears fell anew. "Please...Doran, please...I need to know."

Doran looked as though he was going to refuse but after several long, tense moments he spoke.

"Lord Rickard...your father was...he was burned alive. Brandon...strangled to death...trying to save him."

A ragged, anguished sound bubbled up from her throat and she pulled away from him completely, fighting down her urge to scream, to cry out at the injustice of it. At the loss of her father and eldest brother. She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to prevent the images, the memories, that swarmed her. Memories of her father, hugging her and telling her how much he loved her. Memories of Brandon teaching her how to throw a punch, how to knock a man into the dirt with a single, well aimed blow. She'd thought, even after marrying Oberyn, even after moving to Dorne, that she would get to make new memories with her father, with her brother. She'd never dreamt that she would lose them. Not like this. Never like this.

She opened her eyes, tears still streaming down her face, and looked at Doran. "What...What can be done about...about this? Surely...the King he can't...can't get away with this!"

Doran's expression did not change but she sensed that whatever he was about to say was not what she wanted to hear.

"We can do nothing, Lyanna."

She stared at him, wide eyed and unable to believe what she was hearing.

"What?!"

"Lyanna..."

"No! No, I refuse to accept that there...that there is _nothing_ we can do! This...This wasn't...it wasn't justice, Doran! It wasn't...It..." She shook her head and fought down the urge to scream at Doran, to accuse him of siding with Aerys.

"It was an evil deed, Lyanna. I will never deny that, nor will I ever disregard your pain, but, as terrible as it is, it was the only outcome the King would allow."

She looked at him in disbelief. Had he truly just said that? To her? After telling her that her father and brother had been slaughtered?

"The only outcome?" She scoffed even as her gaze narrowed, her tears of sorrow quickly becoming tears of outrage. "You mean the brutal slaying of my father and my brother? That outcome?!"

"Lyanna, if this prevents a potential rebellion, a potential war in which thousands would die then perhaps..."

"But this was not war!" She hadn't meant to scream but it happened and she shook her head, even as she began to shake, her emotions at war and she had no idea how to calm herself. "This was no honourable death on a battlefield! This...This was murder! This was the paranoia of a madman taking the lives of two innocent men!"

"Lyanna..."

"Do not try to defend him!"

"I am not!"

She fell silent when Doran, who rarely raised his voice, who was always so calm, shouted. She even took a small step back, eyes widening, watching as Doran closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath, while clearly trying to regain his composure. When he opened his eyes, when he finally looked at her again, it was not as her good-brother but as the Prince of Dorne. A ruler. A man who needed her to fall to command and obey. No matter how they both might truly feel.

"I do not support Aerys, little wolf," he said, voice low and level. "I do not support his decision. But his mind is twisted and he sees deception and traitors everywhere. Even within his own family." He drew another deep breath, chin lifting slightly, dark eyes boring into her. "My sister and her children are within the capitol, little wolf, within the Mad King's grasp. And, so long as they are, I will not risk a retaliation that could spur Aerys into inflicting the same fate upon Elia that he chose for your father and brother. Nor will I permit any citizen of Dorne to do so. Do you understand, little wolf?"

Lyanna ground her teeth together, hating what she was hearing, what was being asked of her, how could he just expect her to carry on as though nothing had happened? As though her father and brother's murders meant nothing? She shook her head and started to say something, to refuse, to demand he do something, anything, but remain passive and silent, but his gaze narrowed and she found the words sticking in her throat.

"I said, _do you understand_ , Lyanna?"

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, teeth grinding together, before she gave a slow nod. "I understand." Before Doran could say anything, could try to placate her, she turned on her heel and stormed from the solar making certain the doors slammed shut behind her. As she walked down the hall people hurried from her path, watching her warily, unaccustomed to seeing her in such a mood. None spoke to her, none tried to ask what was wrong, many already had heard the news of Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon, and none truly knew what to say or how to approach her, especially when the look on her face promised swift pain to any who tried to stop her now.

As she entered the open courtyard where she had left the girls she tried to gain control of her emotions, for the girls if nothing else, but her grief and pain was like a physical force weighing her down and, just as she reached the edge of the training area, she collapsed to her knees, unable to remain standing for the grief crashing down on her like a wave. She heard Obara ask her what was wrong even as Nymeria gasped and started towards her. Tears still running down her face she cried, sobbing even as she slammed her fist into the ground, trying to rid herself of the ache in her chest. Trying to fight passed the memories of her father, of her brother, that swarmed her.

"Lya?! Lya?! Lya, what's wrong?!" Obara's shouts broke through the memories and Lyanna knew she had to stop, had to get up, to be strong. For the girls if for nothing else. But she felt so small, so weak. She heard Nymeria ask if she should fetch Mellario or Areo all while Tyene, clearly frightened by what was happening, began chanting _"Mama? Mama?"_ over and over, reaching out for Lyanna but Nymeria caught her, holding her back.

Lyanna tried to find her voice, tried to calm and ease the girls, but she couldn't. She just couldn't.

When arms, strong and sure, wrapped around her she looked up, half expecting it to be Doran, only to be surprised when she found Oberyn kneeling next to her, his dark eyes full of sympathy as he ran one hand over her hair while stopping her from striking the ground again with the other. "It's alright," he cooed as he pulled her close, tucking her against his chest. "It's alright, Lya."

"It's...It's not...my father...my brother..."

"Shh." Oberyn pressed a quick kiss to her hair. "It is alright, Lya."

It took a moment but she soon realized, as she clung to him, face hidden in his chest. He wasn't saying that it was alright that her father and brother were dead. He was saying it was alright to grieve them. That it was alright to be angry and hurt. To want revenge and be enraged that she could not take it. She sobbed and burrowing in closer to him, barely hearing when he softly told his daughters what was wrong, barely hearing the trio move but lifting her head when three sets of slender arms wrapped about her.

"I'll kill 'em," she heard Obara hiss, sounding every bit the serpent that Lyanna referred to her as. "One day. When I'm strong and grown, I'll kill 'em for you, Lya. I swear I will."

"Hush, Obara," Oberyn quietly chastised his eldest daughter even as Tyene reached up, hands wiping at Lyanna's face, trying to dry her tears.

"No cry, Mama, no cry." Tyene's voice was barely a whisper but Lyanna heard it clear as day. "Papa make all better."

Lyanna couldn't help but huff a small laugh, wrapping one arm around Tyene even as she kissed the girl's golden curls. She said nothing, still unable to find her voice but taking comfort that they, her family, were there for her. That Oberyn, wild and brash, who seeming cared little for her, had returned to the Water Gardens, was here now, holding her and showing that, in some way or another, he cared. He may not love her, he may never come to love her like Doran loved Mellario, but he cared and, in that moment of pain and grief, it was enough.


	18. Chapter 18

It was late when Lyanna left the girls in her chamber, left them sleeping in a pile on the bed, tucked in safe and sound. She had tucked a blanket around them, kissing their foreheads, before she'd left them, quietly and carefully shutting the door behind her. Like a shadow, like a wolf in a forest, she moved through the halls of the Water Garden, a single destination in mind.

It wasn't something she had ever planned to do.

Not at all.

But as the girls had fallen asleep, as she had sat in the silence, her mind twisting and turning like a violent sea, she had nearly burst into tears again, hand covering her mouth as though to physically hold back her sobs and she'd known then that she had to do something, she couldn't just sit there and let her grief and anger crush her in their grip. So, she had risen, made certain not to disturbed the girls and, despite everything she had ever said to Mellario, despite everything she had sworn to herself, she sought out her husband.

It took her little time to reach his personal chambers and, without knocking, she entered, the door closing softly being her.

The room was softly lit by glowing lanterns and, across the room by the doors leading the balcony, she saw Oberyn. His back was to her and, though she couldn't see his face, she could see the tension in his shoulders, in the way he held himself. She saw the cup in his hand. Could see the half empty pitcher of wine on the table nearby and knew he'd likely been drinking for a while. Drawing a soft breath she approached him, watching as his fingers flexed around the cup, a reaction no doubt caused by whatever thoughts were running through his mind.

Moving just as quietly as she had in the corridors, she stepped up to the table, pouring her own cup of wine. The sound was enough to draw Oberyn's attention, his head snapping around, and his dark eyes fixed on her immediately. "Lya," he sounded surprised though she doubted it was because he hadn't heard her entered the room. More that she had entered. That she had come here of her own volition.

Picking up her cup she sipped, lightly, at her wine. Neither spoke for several moments, just stood there and then, after what felt like hours, Oberyn found his voice.

"Why did you come here, Lya?"

She huffed and, in a move surprising Oberyn, drained the rest of her wine, setting the cup down on the table with, perhaps, a bit more force than was necessary. Her action had him frowning ever so slightly, one dark eyebrow arching as he looked at her face, searching it for something that he must have found because he set his own cup down, though far gentler than she had, and reached up to brush her hair back, tucking the midnight strands behind her ear.

"Lya," he started and, no matter what he meant to say, she didn't want to hear it. She shook her head and fought down the tears.

"I can't just...every time I close my eyes I see my father...my brother...I just need one...moment...to pretend...to forget that this...this nightmare is real."

"Lyanna..."

She silenced him with a kiss. It was soft and easy. The gentlest press of her lips to his. Her hands coming up to cup his jaw, feeling the roughness of days old stubble beneath her fingers, praying to the Gods that he did not turn her away, praying that some part of him understood what she was asking for. As she pulled back, slowly, breaking the kiss she kept her hands on his jaw, her pale grey gaze fixing on his own dark, nearly black one. She saw the flitter of uncertainty. She saw that his doubt. She knew he was questioning whether this was wise, whether she actually wanted this and, to try and settle his doubt, she stepped closer.

"Please," she all but whispered, suddenly finding it difficult to give voice to her thoughts, to what she wanted from him. "Please, Oberyn just...please...for one night...help me...help me to forget."

She expected him to refuse, to push her away, but the hand still resting against her hair, the hand he hadn't pulled away, tightened suddenly, fingers tangling in the dark tresses as he swiftly dipped his head, capturing her lips in a searing and bruising kiss. His hands slipped as a result, from his jaw to his hair and she felt his free hand on her lower back, drawing her flush against him.

A soft sound of surprised passed her lips, easily swallowed by him, when his hands unexpected went to the backs of her thighs, easily lifting her. It was instinct that had her wrapping her legs about his waist, leaving her clinging to him as he turned, her weight clearly nothing to him, and as he carried her to the bed she broke the kiss, gasping for breath and, when he laid her down on the bed, kneeling over her, she couldn't help but run her hands over his back and down his sides as he looked down at her with those impossibly dark eyes.

The way he looked at her made her think he was about to say something, perhaps to ask if she was sure, and she didn't want that so, using skills she normally only used in sparing matches with Obara or Areo, she took him by surprise by rolling them, settling easily over him, knees braced to either side of his hips, hands on his shoulders even as his rested on her waist, fingers splayed wide. She felt his touch like a brand, even through the thin tunic she wore, and she leaned down, hair falling around them like a barrier between them and the rest of the world.

She brushed her lips softly, teasingly, over his and felt more than heard his groan as it rumbled through his chest. Without further incentive or encouragement she decided to be bold, bolder than she once would have been, and deepened the kiss. As bold as it was, she was still tentative as she touched her tongue to his, not surprised at all when he took the lead. But he went slow, giving her time to adjust before showing her just how much pleasure there was to be shared in such kisses.

They kissed and touched, something they had barely done on their wedding night, the only other time they had shared such intimacy, and it wasn't long before Lyanna was pulling away, panting and whimpering softly when she felt him, hot and hard, through the fabric of their trousers. One of his hands carded through her hair, pushing it back only to let it fall back around them as he reached for the hem of her tunic. His movements were slow, clearly he thought she would be shy, skittish even, but she was hardly some fresh colt. She was a she-wolf and a she-wolf was hardly shy or skittish.

Leaning back, balancing lightly on her knees, she grabbed the hem of her tunic and yanked it upwards tossing it away once it was clear of her body. Looking back down at Oberyn she found his gaze, black and smouldering like coals in a fire, fixed upon her body and suddenly she realized why many women revelled in their sexuality. It was a heady thing. A tremor rolled through her when his hands gliding lightly, easily, up from her waist, calloused fingers rubbing small circles into her skin before he cupped her breasts.

Her head was tossed back as he lightly squeezed, fingers teasing her nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through her. Her back arched as Oberyn sat up, keeping her where she was by slipping an arm around her, pressing hot, open mouth kisses into her chest before ducking his head to capture one of her nipples between his lips. She gasped and mewled, writhing against him as he worried the nub with his lips and teeth. Her fingers sank into his hair as she tried, and failed, to steady her breathing, to control her reactions.

When he flicked the tip of his tongue over her nipple while pinching the other between his fingers she cried out, rocking down against him, feeling the way he bucked up against her. It was wonderful and perfect but not enough. It was no where near enough and she tried to speak, tried to tell him she wanted more, but all that came out were soft little mewls and cries.

As he slowly released the nipple he had been sucking and worrying, Lyanna put her hands against his shoulders and pushed until he was once more laying beneath her, staring up at her, waiting for her next move, his hands rubbing over her body, thumbs pressing lightly to the undersides of her breasts, his breathing ragged the entire time.

"Lya," he breathed her name like it was a prayer and she whimpered as his hips rolled upwards, pressing his cock, hard even in the confines of his trousers, against her. "Tell me what you need, Lya."

With another whimper she clumsily and hastily moved to get rid of her trousers, lifting herself off him only long enough to shove the fabric down her legs, kicking them away before climbing back up to straddle him. "You know what I need," she barely whispered the words, surprised that she was finally able to find her voice. She reached between their bodies, fingers dancing over the dark patch of hair leading down his abdomen, disappearing beneath his trousers. She felt the muscles beneath her touch ripple as she reached for the ties holding his trousers closed. He surprised her by reaching himself and unlacing his trousers when she fumbled and found her slightly trembling fingers unable to do what she wanted. Once his trousers were open he shoved them down just far enough to free his cock and let it rest between them.

Lyanna felt heat rush through her, felt moisture pool between her thighs and her heart hammered against her ribs. She might not have been as experienced as the women her husband normally kept company with but even this she knew and understood. She spread her legs and put herself in position, reaching between them to take his cock in her hand, feeling the hot, silky hardness pressing against her palm as she slowly guided him to her slick entrance and beginning to slip him inside her.

Oberyn groaned as he felt the head of his cock surrounded by the tight, wet heat of Lyanna's body. He knew he should be gentle, Lyanna was hardly experienced, but the feel of her, fingers still lingering on his cock as she slowly lowered herself, the overwhelming tight heat of her, was too much for his control and, as he recalled, she had asked him to help her forget the things that were haunting her mind, so his control slipped and he slammed up all the way into her with one single hard thrust, making her cry out as the air left her lungs.

He managed to regain a bit of his control, stilling long enough for her to catch her breath, to slip his hands to her waist again, waiting for her to slowly start to move and then his fingers dug into her hips as he began to guide her movements even she her body fell forward, hands braced on his shoulders, her hair once more falling like a curtain around them. With every hard thrust up, Lyanna let out a delicious little gasp close to his ear. He knew, or rather some part of him knew, that his rapid, hard thrusts were likely too rough. Lyanna might not be a virgin but she was hardly experienced enough for his pace. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop now that his cock was burying itself repeatedly inside her. The way she moaned above him, her hips meeting every thrust, had him mesmerized.

Lyanna gasped and moaned and cried out as she rode him, as she took his cock into her over and over again, the sensation better than anything she had ever felt. She felt that tingle, that coiling sensation in her lower abdomen, that she'd felt the night of their wedding, the night Oberyn had stripped her of her maidenhead and knew it meant she was close. She doubled her pace as she rode his cock, every thrust hitting her in just the right place as his fingers tightened on her hips.

She was nearly there, the sensation, that coiling in her abdomen, growing hotter and she mewled loudly, only to be surprised when Oberyn unexpectedly rolled them, pinning her beneath him to the bed. "Oberyn..." she gasped, staring up at him with wide eyes, seeing the fire in those dark eyes. Oberyn's motions didn't slow, didn't change, he kept up his pace and drew a deep moan from her in the process.

She watched him through half-lidded eyes, hands gripping at the backs of his shoulders, nails racking down it, leaving deep, red welts as she began gasping his name, over and over again until, after what felt like wonderful, torturous hours, that coiling feeling that had been growing finally snapped, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her, causing her to all but scream his name.

He groaned loudly, feeling her clench and flutter wildly around him and he thrust roughly into her until his rhythm began to falter as she trembled under him, every muscle tensed until finally, finally, he felt himself teeter and fall over the edge of his release. He practically roared as his cock pulsed wildly, filling her with his seed and, some primal part of him whispered that she would likely be carrying his child soon. That thought had him groaning deep in the back of his throat as he collapsed onto his elbow, head hanging limply next to hers.

Oberyn brushed his nose tiredly against Lyanna's as she struggled to gain control of her breathing. When their heartbeats finally slowed, he looked down at her, seeing the beauty, the fierceness, that was uniquely her, and kissed her lazily, happy to cover her with his body as his cock softened inside her.

After a few moments he slipped off of her, his spent cock sliding gently from her, though she mewled softly at the over sensation it shot through her body and he immediately gathered her in his arms, holding her close, her cheek pressed against his chest even as he ran his fingers through the dark tangle of her hair. He watched as her eyes slipped shut and listened as her breathing slowly evened out as sleep claimed her. He watched her sleep, watched the way her eyelids fluttered as she dreamed and he held her close even as his own eyes slid closed, sleep claiming him as easily as it had claimed her.

When Oberyn woke in the morning, sunlight just barely peeking through the windows, he found himself alone.


	19. Chapter 19

Oberyn sat for a long time, a half empty glass of wine dangling haphazardly from his fingers, gaze fixed on a nonexistent spot on the far wall.

He kept thinking about Lyanna, about their marriage, about how the brewing war could easily tear their world apart. She had already lost her father and eldest brother and, he knew, there were whispers that the Mad King would not be satisfied with only two Stark heads. If he called for the deaths of Eddard and Benjen he knew it would break his wife. She was strong, stronger than most would believe, but beneath that iron strength Oberyn had seen the kindness, the gentle heart. He knew she could not survive the decimation of her family.

But he also knew that there was little to be done if the Mad King called for Eddard and Benjen's deaths.

Drawing a deep breath he downed the rest of his wine before standing, his mind conjuring images of potential futures where Lyanna lost what little was left of her family. None of them were good. In all of them she broke, becoming less and less of the woman she was until all that was left was a shell. A creature made cold like Northern ice and filled with hatred that left her bitter and more venomous than any serpent.

He didn't want that.

He may have little love for Lyanna but he wasn't heartless. He cared for her, perhaps more than he would ever admit even to himself, and his daughters loved her. Even his brother and good-sister adored her. Doran even let it be known that, when she was ready, Lyanna would hold a seat on his council that, during their late mother's rule, had belonged to their Uncle Lewyn before he took up the White Cloak. Lyanna had a future, bright and shining, ahead of it. He did not wish to see all that she could become, all that she could achieve, dashed by the word of a mad man.

Reminding himself, again, that there was little to be done should the King decide the two remaining Stark sons were a threat.

That thought, the knowing that if that came to pass would destroy Lyanna's future, had him hurling the cup across the room. He watched as it hit the far wall, shattering, the pieces falling, and it seemed fitting, for that was exactly what would happen to Lyanna's life if Eddard and Benjen were to die.

With a rumbling sound, like water rushing over rocks, he grabbed a clean tunic, pulling it on haphazardly, before leaving his chamber. He moved quickly, with purpose, through the corridors of the Water Gardens until he came to Doran's solar, the doors were open and he could hear the laughter of his niece. It was what made him pause long enough to collect himself, making it appear as though he hadn't been awake since dawn, that he was calm and his usual self. He didn't need Arianne to see him as anything but her charming, loving uncle.

Entering the solar he found Doran sitting at his desk, Arianne perched happily on his lap, playing with a tiny obsidian dragon that her father held. Not far away, on one of the low couches, was Mellario, in her arms was a cooing Quentyn. Doran, having heard him enter, looked up, the smile on his face slipping away. Not because of the look on Oberyn's face, because it was a mask, but because of the look in his eyes. Doran drew a slow breath before looking at Arianne, smiling for her sake.

"Why don't you and your mother take Quentyn to the pools, hmm?" He pressed a quick kiss to Arianne's forehead. "Your uncle and I have to speak."

Arianne nodded, carefully climbing from Doran's lap even as Mellario stood, meeting her daughter by the doors, pausing long enough to look back, a small, concerned frown on her face before the trio disappeared down the corridor. Oberyn, not wanting the conversation to be overheard, quickly closed the doors before moving back towards Doran's desk.

"I..." he started but stopped when Doran held a hand up.

"You're here because you are worried about what Aerys may or may not do to Lord Eddard and Lord Benjen."

Oberyn huffed a humourless laugh as he dropped into one of the chairs before Doran's desk. "You grow as perceptive as Mother more and more with each day."

"I do not need to be perceptive to know you worry for Lyanna's sanity should what little is left of her family be killed. You are not the only one who cares about her, little brother."

"And yet, despite our concern, we can do nothing."

Doran sighed as he leaned back, regarding Oberyn as he did, hands folding in his lap.

"Doing anything would be seen as an act of treason or war or both and would endanger Elia and her children." Doran looked at his brother. "Tell me, how do I choose to protect my good-sister over our flesh and blood?"

That had Oberyn's anger boiling again.

"Lyanna is family just as much as..."

"I am not saying she's not," Doran replied quickly, evenly, voice never rising, speaking as both Oberyn's elder brother and the Prince of Dorne. "Do not mistake my words. I care for our little wolf, I worry for her, but I am leader of Dorne and must think of more than just one soul. If war breaks out, Elia and her children will be hostages, our people will suffer, many will die. I must weigh all of this when deciding what course of action to take."

"But, speaking in truths, brother, we can do nothing."

"Oberyn," Doran heard the anger in his brother's voice but knew nothing he said would calm it. Only Elia had ever been capable of soothing Oberyn when in a mood.

"I cannot accept that my wife suffers, and will continue to suffer, and all we may do is watch!" Oberyn was on his feet between one heartbeat and the next, fists clenched at his sides. "There must be something..."

"Sit down, Oberyn."

"We cannot stand by as the Mad King..."

"I said sit down, Oberyn!"

It was the surprise, Doran hadn't shouted at him in a long time, which had Oberyn sitting back down. Doran, seemingly just as surprised as Oberyn, ran a hand over his face, drawing a deep breath, clearly calming himself, before he looked at Oberyn again, his hand resting in a fist against the arm of his chair.

"I will tell you this only once, so listen well, little brother," the Prince of Dorne said, sounding calm and reasonable even though Oberyn could see the fire flashing in his brother's dark eyes. "If you do anything that would be seen as a move against House Targaryen, or King Aerys, I will personally see you locked in a cell in the Spear Tower. Where you will remain until either the threat of war has passed or King Aerys dies. Do you understand, Oberyn?"

When Oberyn said nothing Doran slammed his fist on the arm of his chair.

"I said, do you understand, Oberyn?"

Oberyn ground his teeth together and his fists clenched and the brothers glared at one another until, after what felt like an eternity, Oberyn gave a slow nod, standing just as slowly. "I understand," he said from between clenched teeth, turning and leaving the room, making certain to slam the door shut behind him. A passing servant jumped, startled by the banging of the door and she watched, wide eyed, as he stormed by her.

He walked for a while, trying to calm himself, but it didn't little good and by the time he reached the training courtyard he was still in a foul mood but the sound of ringing steel drew him from his thoughts and he looked up just in time to see Lyanna knock Obara to one side, her sword gleaming in the sunlight, Obara's spear sparkling just as brightly. It caused him to still, to watch, because it looked no different than any other day. As though just a day ago his wife hadn't received the most terrible news.

He leaned against one of the nearby marble columns, watching his wife and daughter, watching the strength Lyanna had. The strength to keep going. To not let her grief and pain ensnare and smoother her in their grasp. A smile graced his face as he watched the sparring match. Obara was laughing as she moved, graceful and swift as a serpent and Lyanna dodged and prowled like a wolf stalking its prey.

For a moment it was easy to pretend, to forget, the brewing war, the darkness that threatened to overwhelm the realm.

Lyanna spun, blocking Obara's strike, and, for a heartbeat, her gaze locked with Oberyn's.

It lasted for only a heartbeat but in that heartbeat Oberyn felt more connected to his wife than he had in the few, fleeting moments they had spent together. His smile widened as the moment ended, Lyanna dancing away from another strike from Obara's spear, her sword flashing as she lashed out, twisting the spear out of her path so that she was stepping into Obara's space, showing the girl just how dangerous a blind strike could be.

He only looked away when he felt a slight tugging at his tunic.

Looking down he found Tyene looking up at him with those big, dark blue eyes. He smiled at her as he reached down, running his hand over her soft blonde curls. "Hello, darling," he said softly as Tyene extended her arms up to him, the universal signal impossible to ignore and he chuckled softly as he picked her up. Her little arms wrapped around his neck and she looked at him in the way only a child could look at their parent. But he saw the question in her eyes. "What is it, darling?"

Tyene chewed on her lower lip for a moment before finding her voice.

"Papa, gonna make Mama not be sad?"

Oberyn stared at Tyene, surprised by her question and, had to remind himself that, for being so young, Tyene was very perceptive. He gave a small, somewhat sad, smile before pressing a quick kiss to Tyene's temple. "I'm not certain that I can, my little darling," he said softly. "Some sadness is not easily made to go away."

Tyene frowned, clearly not liking the answer, and looked over to where Lyanna was before those big blue eyes turned back to him. "You try?"

His smile changed then, becoming warmer and he kissed Tyene's temple again, hugging her closer. "I can certainly try."

Tyene's smile was as bright as the sunlight and she kissed his cheek before requesting he put her down. Laughing slightly he did as she asked, watching as she raced over to where Obara was sitting. Turning his gaze back to Lyanna he found she and Nymeria had stopped sparring, Nymeria examining one of her daggers, which was broken, a scowl fixed firmly on her otherwise pretty face. Lyanna patted the girl on her shoulder with a soft smile before her gaze lifted, meeting his and holding for the briefest of moments before she looked away again.

Part of him, the same part that had refused to allow his daughters to be raised anywhere but here, demanded he speak with Lyanna. To at least try and forge some sort of connection between them. To be there for her in a manner other than what they had shared the night before. He didn't only want their relationship to be of a physical nature. He wanted her to know that she could come to him and simply talk, that she could express her concerns and doubts and fears to him. That he would listen and offer support in any way he could.

And yet he did not move towards her.

He did not reach out as his mind and heart were telling him.

Instead he slowly turned and walked away.


	20. Chapter 20

It was several days after her night with Oberyn that Lyanna learned he had once again left the Water Gardens, though no one could clearly say where he had gone, even Doran claimed not to know, though Lyanna had quickly learned that her good-brother often knew much more than he would admit to and she suspected he knew, or had some partial knowledge, of where Oberyn had disappeared to.

She pretended that Oberyn's absence did not bother her, for only weeks earlier it wouldn't have, but in the wake of all that had happened she had hoped that he would linger, that she might have the chance to approach him again, this time only to talk, even if it were only to discuss what their future together might be. But she had asked for one night and, honouring that, Oberyn had given her only one night.

So she busied herself with training with Obara and Nymeria, teaching Tyene her letters, spending time with Mellario and her children, and learning from Doran so that one day she might serve on his council.

It was the only thing that kept her from breaking down.

She'd sent a raven to Benjen in Winterfell, her letter brief and merely asking after his wellbeing, worried that her younger brother, being alone as Ned was in the Eyrie with Lord Arryn, would be suffering. The raven returned with reply, from Maester Luwin, that, though grief stricken, Benjen was as healthy and hale as could be expected but there had been no word of Ned as their elder brother, and now Lord of Winterfell, had not sent word. That had worried Lyanna and she'd sent a raven to the Vale, to the Eyrie, but had received no reply.

As the days turned into weeks Lyanna found that, some days, she tired more easily, her back ached and her breasts would ache from time to time. She thought nothing of it. Stress. From trying to pretend the murder of her father and brother no longer affected her. From training the girls and from worrying about Benjen and wondering why Ned hadn't responded to any of her letters. Even when her moon blood came, light and pinkish and lasting much shorter than it normally did she dismissed it. Her mother had always said stress and high emotions could cause such things.

It wasn't until months had passed, after the Mad King had called not only Ned's death but the death of Robert Baratheon, fearing no doubt either of the young Lords retaliating for Rickard and Brandon's deaths, that Lyanna realized that, whatever was happening to her, was more than just emotions or stress.

She was having a late breakfast with Mellario and had just reached for a piece of toast when her stomach suddenly, and unexpectedly, rolled. The sensation was not unfamiliar, she'd been ill a few times as a child and recognized the early warning signs and, without a word to her good-sister, she was up and running, though she only made it as far as the door, turning at the last moment to the potted plant in the corner and emptying her stomach of what little she'd eaten.

She was on her knees, stomach still rolling, feeling worse that she had during any childhood illness and she started a bit when Mellario suddenly brushed her hair back, kneeling next to her, and a look of concern on her beautiful dark face. "Lya? What's wrong? Did something not agree with you?"

"I..." Lyanna swallowed despite the disgusting taste in her mouth, breathing shallowly as her stomach finally settled. "I don't know...it's...it's not the first time and I...it's just...it's probably just stress, Mel."

"You have been sick like this before today?"

Lyanna nodded. "Off and on for...well...for a while now."

Mellario, frown still on her face, slowly reached down and rested her hand against Lyanna's stomach, fingers gently probing and, before Lyanna could ask her what she was doing, her good-sister's gaze, dark as night, lifted and focused on her face. "Tell me," Mellario said. "When was the last time you bled?"

Lyanna blinked, confused and a little surprised by the question. "I...well...I..." She paused, realizing she couldn't quite recall and something must have shown on her face because Mellario's frown vanished and was replaced by a kind and warm expression.

"It's been a while, hmm? At least two, maybe three, months?"

"Possibly. But I don't see why it's import..."

Lyanna's words died in her throat as she realized _why_ it was important. Her heart began beating faster even as, she quickly realized, the last time she could clearly remember having her moon blood was before word had come with news of her father and brother, before the night she had spent with her husband. Something, some shock or understanding, must have shown on her face because Mellario was quickly wrapping an arm around her.

"It's alright, Lya," her good-sister said, hand rubbing in gentle, soothing circles over her back. "This is a good thing."

Lyanna squeaked, an unintelligible sound, looking at Mellario with wide eyes.

"I...I can't be...this is..."

"I know it's frightening, the first time, but truly Lya, everything is going to be alright."

With another squeak she allowed Mellario to help her stand, walk back across the room where she sat, quiet, hands folded almost protectively over her stomach, as Mellario told a servant to go fetch Maester Sevran. When her good-sister sat back down next to her, hand once more rubbing circles over her back, Lyanna blinked and looked at her, trying to find her voice but failing. Mellario, mother of two and ever understanding, smiled at her, brushing her hair back with her free hand. "Everything's going to be fine, Lya," Mellario assured her and Lyanna nodded despite feeling as though her entire world had once more been shaken and turned upside down. "You won't go through this alone. I promise."

Lyanna nodded and tried not to look as afraid as she was suddenly feeling. Her hands kept flexing against her stomach and, now that she was thinking about it, she could feel, where before there had been taut muscle, softness, a slight rounding. Why hadn't she noticed it before? It had been months since that night with Oberyn. Had the changes in her own body been so overshadowed by her grief and worry and attempts to pretend everything was okay? Had she truly managed to ignore this for so long?

By the time Maester Sevran came and went, having checked her carefully, she learned that she was, as the Maester had said, somewhere between two and four months with child. Thinking she was pregnant and hearing it confirmed by a Maester were two very different things. Knowing the truth made her stomach tighten, made it roll, and, for a very brief moment, she thought she would be sick again. After Maester Sevran left Lyanna looked at Mellario, who had not left her side.

"Mel..." Lyanna swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. "A...A baby...what...I don't know what to...I mean..."

Mellario quickly hugged her. "It's terrifying," her good-sister said gently, pulling back enough to look her in the eye. "The first time. When I realized I was carrying Arianne I nearly had panic attacks every day, always afraid and worried, but that is perfectly normal, Lya. You'll worry and be afraid and, when you finally hold that sweet babe in your arms, you will realize it has all been worth it."

Lyanna nodded, wanting to believe, to trust, but her mind and heart were racing and she just couldn't find the strength of will to do so. Thankfully Mellario seemed to understand because her good-sister quickly pulled her back into a warm, comforting embrace, hand running lightly over her hair. "It's going to be alright, Lya," Mellario said in her ear. "Everything's going to be just fine. You'll see."

**_oOoOoOo_ **

Barely three weeks later and Lyanna was once more cursing the Gods, the Old and the New.

Word had arrived, from Elia in King's Landing and Maester Luwin in Winterfell, that the Mad King had called for the heads of Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, claiming them co-conspirators in Rickard Stark's supposed rebellion. But Lord Jon Arryn had refused and, in a surprising move, had called his own banners in rebellion of Targaryen rule. Houses Arryn and Stark united beneath the banner of House Baratheon, beneath Robert's lead, and marched against royalist forces. War had come to the Seven Kingdoms.

Doran, as was expected, sent men North to be commanded by Lewyn in the King's name. Oberyn, despite orders from Doran to return to Sunspear, rode North as well, though he seemed content to linger in the city of Wyl. Mellario said Oberyn would return if Doran would but write and tell him that Lyanna was with child but Doran had given Lyanna his word that he would say nothing of the subject. It both baffled and infuriated Mellario, who didn't understand why Lyanna was so reluctant to tell Oberyn, but Lyanna would not budge on her decision.

She and Oberyn were married and little else.

She saw no reason to trouble and worry him with her pregnancy when he had troubles enough to worry about.

So she tried to continue on with life as best she could. News came nearly daily from the capitol concerning the rebellion and the war that was slowly beginning to sweep the Seven Kingdoms. News she tried hard to ignore. Focusing on training Obara and Nymeria. On teaching Tyene. She woke every day terrified that a raven arriving with news would bring word that Ned had been killed. That Winterfell had fallen. And every day that those words never came was a relief.

By the time she was nearly five months pregnant the war had grown, the Riverlands joining in the Rebellion via marriages of Lord Hoster Tully's daughters, Catelyn and Lysa, to Ned and Jon Arryn. The Battle of Summerhall saw three victories in one day go to Robert and his forces, saw Mace Tyrell choosing to launch a siege of Storm's End instead of following a retreating Robert.

One afternoon, while resting after a morning of sparing and training with the girls, a servant came to Lyanna in the Water Gardens.

"Pardon, Princess," the boy said, bowing respectfully. "But there is a Captain Valka here to speak with Prince Oberyn."

Lyanna frowned, not rising from where she sat with her legs in the cool water of one of the many pools, but looked up at the boy. "Then tell Captain Valka that Oberyn isn't here. That, last you heard, he was in Wyl."

"I did, Princess," the boy said, nervously shuffling from foot to foot. "But she said if not Oberyn than she would speak to his wife."

" _She_? This Captain is a woman?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, Princess."

Lyanna, despite her aching back and feet, was intrigued. She stood, slowly, carefully, and followed the boy to one of the solars where guests were entertained. Surprised to find a tall, ebony skinned beauty waiting there. The woman was dressed in a simple white tunic and brown doeskin trousers. Her hair was cut short, nearly to her scalp, and her dark eyes focused on Lyanna the moment she stepped into the room. Lyanna dismissed the servant and slowly approached the other woman.

"Captain Valka?"

The woman nodded. "And you must be Oberyn's wolf bride," Valka's voice was rich and warm, with an accent that Lyanna had never heard before. Dark eyes dropped to the swell of Lyanna's abdomen momentarily. "A wolf bride with a wolf pup."

"Lyanna."

Valka gave a slight nod of her head. "I suppose you're wondering, Lyanna, why I came to see your lord husband."

Lyanna huffed a small laugh. "What I am truly wondering about, Captain, is why, when you were told Oberyn wasn't here, you asked to speak with me."

"Sharp. I like that." Valka turned, a small gracing her face as she crossed to one of the lounging seats where a large coat lay. Lyanna watched as the woman picked up a child, no more than one or two years, and turned back to her. "This is Sarella."

Lyanna looked at the girl and knew, just as she had known with Obara, Nymeria and Tyene, that the child Valka held was Oberyn's.

"She's Oberyn's."

It was not a question but Valka nodded anyways.

"She is." Valka smiled at her daughter. "She was born aboard my ship while I was on an expedition to the far northern shores of Essos. Oberyn doesn't know of her."

Lyanna smiled at Sarella, who was watching her with large dark eyes. Oberyn's eyes. "Why come to tell him now?"

"Because a ship is no place to raise a child and, mother or not, I'm not the...maternal type." Valka shrugged. "And I heard that Oberyn had fetched his other children from their mothers so that he could be a proper father."

"You would leave her here? With Oberyn?"

"And with you." Valka smiled a little wider. "I heard stories, during the journey here, that you had taken to raising Oberyn's other children so, I thought, perhaps you would be open minded to taking in one more."

"A bold assumption."

Valka chuckled.

"But a correct one, I think."

Lyanna smiled as she walked to where Valka was standing, looking at Sarella who stared up at her with wide eyes. "Hello, Sarella," she said softly, warmly, feeling the same pull to the girl that she had felt to Oberyn's other daughters. "My name is Lyanna. Would you like to meet your sisters?"

Sarella gave a tiny smile before giving a small nod, slowly reaching her arms out towards Lyanna, who easily took the child in her arms, holding the tiny girl close, even as she looked at Valka. "Are you certain about this?"

Valka nodded.

"As I said, a ship is no place for a child to grow, not one as bright and curious and my Sarella. She will do well here, with you, with her father and with her sisters. Much better than she would with me."

Lyanna watched as Valka grabbed her coat from the lounger and stepped around her, heading for the door. She turned, quickly, looking after her. "What should I tell her," she said, causing Valka to stop and glance back. "When she asks of her mother?"

Valka smiled. "Tell her that her mother is a captain of the Summer Isle and, that when she is old enough, I welcome her to seek me out."

Valka said nothing more before taking her leave.

Lyanna stood there for a few moments, looking down at Sarella just as the girl's tiny hand tangled in her hair, those large dark eyes fixed on her face. "Our family just keeps growing and growing," she said softly, pressing a quick kiss to Sarella's dark tresses, before leaving the room. She had to let Doran know what had just taken place and then she had to find the girls and introduce them to their sister.


	21. Chapter 21

The weeks after the arrival of Sarella seemed to fly by.

News came concerning the Rebellion and, though Lyanna prayed everyday for the safety of what remained of her family, she often found herself so busy with the girls that she barely thought about the war. It was only in the quiet evenings, when she took meals with Doran and Mellario, that her thoughts were able to turn to what was happening beyond the Water Gardens. Beyond the boarders of Dorne.

The Battle of the Bells had been a victory for the rebels, for Robert, and had cost the Lord of Griffon's Roost, Jon Connington, not only the title of Hand of the King but his title of lord and his lands in the Storm Lands as the Mad King exiled him because of the loss at the Stoney Sept. It was surprising to Lyanna. She knew, from letters Elia had written months and months ago, that Jon Connington was a dear friend to Rhaegar. That the Crown Prince had been unable to protect his friend from his father's madness did not bode well for what the realm would likely suffer when the rebellion finally ended.

Elia wrote that Rhaella had taken Viserys and gone to Dragonstone, seeking the safety of the island as she was heavily pregnant with her third child and that, Elia herself, was planning to leave the capitol as soon as Rhaegar returned to convince his father that the safest place for her and their children was in Sunspear.

And then, only a few short weeks after that, word came, once more from Elia, which had Doran looking grief stricken and enraged in a way that Lyanna had never seen.

Rhaegar had fallen in battle.

Slain at the Trident when he faced Robert.

And his was not the only death that caused Doran to lock himself away in his solar, only his most trusted advisors permitted entrance.

Ser Lewyn, Doran's beloved Uncle and member of the Mad King's Kingsguard, sent to protect Rhaegar and lead the Dornish forces against Robert's, had also been slain. Killed after being already mortally wounded.

The Battle of the Trident had dealt unimaginable damage to the Targaryen forces and their morale. It didn't take a wise genius to understand what that meant.

Robert was winning.

Slowly, but surely, the Lord of Storm's End was winning his rebellion.

Lyanna, though nearly eight months pregnant, had ignored the guards Doran had posted outside his solar, punching one in the jaw when he attempted to stop her from entering, earning shocked and impressed looks from the Lords within, as she stormed in, stomach swollen with her child, face flushed with the energy she'd exerted teaching the fool guard a lesson and hair hanging in dark waves about her face and shoulder. She marched, as much as she was able in her condition, to where Doran sat, grey eyes flashing fiercely even as his dark gaze, filled with his own grief and rage.

"Little wolf," he started but she shook her head, not afraid to cut the Prince of Dorne off.

"I want to know," she said, sounding much calmer than she actually was. "What you plan to do about Elia and her children." When Doran just stared at her she all but growled like the wolf he claimed her to be. "They cannot be left with that mad man. He sent his men, _our_ countrymen, and his own son, his heir, to their deaths at the Trident. I will not see such a fate befall Elia or her children.

So, my brother, what do you plan to do?"

Doran gave her an unreadable look. And then, surprising her, he picked up a chess piece, a bishop that had been carved to look like a snake coiled around the shaft of a spear. It was white, made from the wood of a weirwood tree, and smooth as polished stone when he pressed it into her hand while softly speaking. "The Viper has been sent to retrieve those whom are precious to us."

Her fingers tightened around the piece, feeling it bite into her palm, her gaze remained locked with Doran's, searching, wanting to be sure, before she slowly nodded.

"Now, little wolf," her good-brother spoke, still softly, his gaze slowly slipping away from hers. "I believe you should be resting. All this...excitement is not good for you or the baby."

Lyanna, still clutching the little white bishop, nodded again before leaving the room. The guards watched her as she passed, clearly wary, since her entrance had been so fierce. She ignored them, continuing on her way, moving through the halls of the Water Garden until she reached the courtyard where Areo was training Obara. Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella were sitting in the shade, watching, Sarella immediately smiled when she caught sight of Lyanna, giving the tiniest of waves before she went back to watching Obara. It had surprised how easily Sarella had settled in with her elder sisters, how easily the girls had accepted Sarella, making her one of them without a thought.

With a small smile she crossed to where the girls were sitting, joining them in the shade, the only thing she hated about being with child, more than the morning sickness, which had thankfully passed weeks ago, was how quickly she became tired. How weak she felt after doing the simplest of tasks. So, sitting with the girls she considered as much her own as the child she was carrying, she drew a slow, deep breath and leaning back against the wall, hand folding lightly over her abdomen.

She wasn't surprised when, after a moment or so, Tyene was pressed against her side, head resting on her shoulder. Wrapping an arm around Tyene she watched Obara spar, watched as the girl put her training to use and, though she could not yet best Areo, the girl was well on her way to, one day, being able to do just that. She continued to watch the sparing match even when Obara took time to rest and Nymeria took up her daggers, turning the little bishop between her fingers, thinking about how Oberyn was, even now, heading into danger to protect Elia, to bring her and her children home safely, and, as she silently prayed the Gods kept them all safe she began to doze.

She wasn't certain how much time had passed only that she came back to wakefulness when a hand lightly shook her shoulder.

"Lyanna?" Areo's voice was full of concern and it took her several minutes to be able to focus properly on his face. He was frowning, expression full of the same concern that laced his voice. "Lyanna, is everything alright?"

"Hmm?" She blinked and rubbed a hand over her face. "Oh...what..."

She heard Areo bark at Obara to fetch the Maester but she quickly called out, stopping the girl. "I'm fine," she said, senses having fully returned and she looked up at Areo as she gave a weak smile. "Just...tired...stupid pregnancy makes me so damn tired."

Areo did not look convinced but helped her to stand when she tried. She was surprised by how weak she felt. Though usually tired the sudden wave of weakness, nearly crippling, felt odd. Felt wrong. "I think I'll just go to my room," she said as Areo lingered at her side, his hand on her arm as she wavered slightly.

"I think you should see the Maester, Lyanna. The girls could not rouse you and you're pale. Much paler than you normally are."

Lyanna sighed and shook her, which caused a wave of dizziness to wash over her as well as the weariness. "I'm fine." She pretended not to see Areo's unimpressed look, slowly managing to take a step, however shaky, away from the man. "Just...Just need to rest for a little while."

"Lyanna..."

"I'm fine, Areo." She gave him as sharp a look as she could manage, considering her current state, but it seemed to work because the man took a half step back. "After a nap I'll be right as rain."

Areo looked like he wanted to argue, to force her to go to the Maester, but he finally nodded and, after she quickly patted Obara's shoulder and managed to smile at the other girls, she walked, as quickly as she was able given her state, to her room. By the time she managed that, by the time she was laying in her own bed, she was beginning to think that maybe Areo had been right. Walking from the courtyard to her room shouldn't have left her even weaker than she had been when Areo had roused her from her doze. But she pushed those thoughts away. She just needed a rest. The news from the capitol, and Doran's announcement that her husband was riding into the heart of danger, had taken more out of her than she'd expected.

Curling up, as best she could, hand resting over her stomach. She felt the baby move and, despite her exhaustion, she smiled, eyes slowly slipping shut. Yes, after a nap she was certain she'd be just fine.

**_oOoOoOo_ **

It was dark when Lyanna woke to sharp and intense pain.

She knew immediately that something was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong.

She tried to push herself up but only managed to half sit up. Her hands and arms trembled, weakness washed over her and she gasped as it was accompanied by that sharp pain. Her hand, weak as it was, pressed immediately to her stomach and, even in the darkness, she could see, on the sheets and the loose fabric of her tunic, the dark stain that, even as she looked at it, was growing. She didn't need to be a Maester or a healer to know what it was.

Blood.

Her blood.

Panting, trying to fight through the pain, she barely managed to sit up, to turn so when she had no other choice but to collapse back onto her pillows, she was on her back. Looking down her body, pain wracking her, dizziness and weakness playing havoc with her mind, she saw the blood and did the only thing she could think of to get help.

She screamed.


	22. Chapter 22

It felt like moments, but could have been longer, it was hard for her to judge time through the pain, but the doors to her room banged open and she heard the voice of Mira, one of the servants, asking her what was wrong before the poor girl screamed and, suddenly, someone was kneeling beside her. Blinking, fighting through the haze that was trying to settle over her, she realized that it wasn't Mira next to her but Doran.

"Dor...Doran..."

"Hush now, little," Doran cooed to her, carefully moving her until she was in his arms. "The Maester is coming. And a midwife. Everything will be alright."

"Hurts..." Lyanna gasped in pain and clutched at his arm, her nails biting deep but Doran showed nothing, merely held her. "Shouldn't be...too soon..."

"It's going to be alright," Doran replied as Servan and the midwife rushed into the room, a guard close behind. "Just breath, little wolf. Breath."

Lyanna cried out as a fresh wave of pain washed over her, her body cramping and something shifting within her, her nails biting deeper into Doran's arm as the midwife managed to peel her blood soaked trousers from her body. She squeezed her eyes shut as the pain slowly ebbed, praying to the Gods, Old and New, that nothing was wrong with the baby, that the baby would be okay.

She heard Servan say something to her but the pain made it nearly impossible to focus, it wasn't until Doran spoke that she was able to push through the haze and hear what was being said.

"You need to push, little wolf," her good-brother said in her ear, shifting her slightly in his arms, her back to his chest, holding her up since she was too weak to do so herself. "The baby must be born now."

Lyanna shook her head, face wet with sweat and tears. "Too soon...it's..."

"It is close enough, little wolf. If not now then the babe may not survive."

Lyanna heard the unspoken _you may not survive_ in Doran's voice and knew, deep in her bones knew, that he was right. If she didn't have her baby now then they both would likely die. Gripping Doran's arm, using him as an anchor to fight the unimaginable pain she was feeling she drew a deep breath, looking at Sevran, managing to focus enough to see both he and the midwife nod and when the midwife said push she did. She pushed as hard as she could, screaming and crying, the pain nearly unbearable, but she pushed, stopping only when either too weak or Servan told her to.

It went like that for what felt like an eternity.

Pain and blood and screams and tears.

And all the while Doran held her, let her nails sink into his flesh to the point that his blood stained her fingertips, he whispered encouragement to her, told her that she was brave, so very brave, and, in that moment, all she wanted, more than her baby to be safe, was that it was Oberyn, not Doran, who was holding her.

"You must push now, Princess," Servan's voice cut through the haze of pain and the cloud of her thoughts. "Push hard!"

Her scream pierced the air like a wolf's howl.

She felt a pain far greater than what she had ever experienced and it caused tears to spill down her face and her grip on Doran's arms to tighten but then she felt as though something had slipped from her body and, after barely a heartbeat of silence, there was the wailing, however weak, of a babe. Opening her eyes, she didn't remember closing them, she looked down, barely hearing what Servan and the midwife were saying.

"A son," Servan said as he cut the cord, letting the midwife take the babe, clean it and wrap it in a blanket. "You have a son, Princess."

Lyanna whimpered, the pain still radiating through her, but she managed to let go of Doran's arms as the midwife lay her baby, her _son_ , on her chest. She was too weak to properly hold him but Doran helped her, he guided her arms and smiled as she stared, with awe and love, at the child she had just brought into the world.

"He's beautiful, little wolf," Doran whispered and Lyanna had to agree. Even crying and still flecked with blood, her son was beautiful. He was perfect and precious and...

She gasped as another wave of pain hit her.

The midwife moved quickly, taking her son away as Servan said something about the afterbirth but Lyanna once more was lost to the pain. It seemed to burn through her like a wildfire through dry brush. She panted and gasped for breath, tears and sweat rolling down her face as she found herself growing weaker and weaker. She tried to focus, to hear what was being said but things seemed to be growing farther and father away. She could hear her son crying, faint and so far away and it made her fight harder though it seemed to do little good. She wanted her son. Wanted to hold him. To sooth him. He needed her. She couldn't fail him.

"She burns," she heard Doran say, feeling a hand sweep over her sweat drenched hair.

"It is birthing fever, my Prince," she thought she heard someone say, Doran's embrace suddenly tightening around her. "We must cool her or else we risk...my Prince!"

Lyanna felt herself being moved but it seemed as though she was somewhere else, she blinked and found herself staring up at Doran, who seemed to be carrying her. He looked afraid. She'd never seen him look afraid. He was calm and collected. He was strong. Why did he look afraid? She weakly lifted her hand, it trembled and she could barely make it move, but she managed to lightly touch his chin. "Dor...Doran...wha..."

"All will be well, little wolf," he said, moving quickly and, as cool night air suddenly wrapped around them she realized he had carried her from her room, from the Water Gardens themselves and out onto the beach where, before she was too far pregnant, she rode with Obara and Nymeria. She could smell the sea, strong and salty, hear the waves as they lapped at the sand, but she didn't understand why her good-brother had brought her here.

"It's going to be alright," Doran whispered to her and the fear that had been on his face was just as clear in his voice. "It will be alright, Lyanna."

It was his use of her name that told her something was terribly wrong.

More so than her son being born early.

More so than the pain, which she barely felt now.

It wasn't until Doran carried her into the ocean, which should have felt cool but not icy like the Bay of Seals so far to the North, that she realized just how terribly wrong things were. As Doran sank to his knees in the waves, careful to keep her head above the water, she felt as though her entire body, previous feeling as though she were on fire, practically screamed in agony. The cry that tore free of her throat as she fought, however weakly, to get away from Doran, to get away from the water, pierced the night.

And, despite her struggles, despite her begging for Doran to stop, he held her. He held her in the water, smoothing her hair back even as his fingers, which felt like icicles against her skin, gently touched her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Lyanna," Doran said as he held her fast, her struggles lessening as the pain flowed over her, followed by the intense weakness of earlier. "I know it hurts. But we must get the fever down. Have to...to stop the fever...or else..."

She felt something drip onto her cheek and, for a moment, she merely thought it water.

But looking up at her good-brother she saw the difference.

Doran was crying.

He was rocking her in the waves, trying to break the birthing fever, and he was crying.

It caused her heart to leap into her throat and she managed to lift her arm, weakly trying to dry his tears.

"Doran..." The world seemed to tilt and sway and she knew, just as Doran did, that if the fever did not break she would like die, here, in the ocean, in Doran's arms. "My son..."

"He's well, Lyanna," Doran was quick to reassure her, a wave crashing into them and nearly knocking him over. "The midwife will tend to him until...until you are..."

"If I don't..." She gasped in pain, shivering from cold and fever and suddenly clinging to Doran like he alone would keep her anchored in the world of the living, that hanging on to him would prevent the Gods from taking her too soon. "I want you to...to promise me..."

"Hush...nothing is going to..."

"Promise me...to...take care of...my son...when his father cannot...if he cannot...please, Doran...please...promise me..."

"Lyanna..."

"Promise me, Doran..." She gasped again, body jerking in Doran's arms. "Promise me..."

She watched more tears fall down Doran's cheeks as her good brother nodded and the last thing she heard before darkness overtook her was his voice, soft but firm.

"I promise."


	23. Chapter 23

Lyanna woke to the sound of soft whimpers and the shuffling sound of a baby squirming in his blankets.

It was how she'd woken every morning for nearly three weeks and it brought a smile to her face.

That she'd been able to have those three weeks was a miracle.

The night she'd given birth to her son she had nearly died.

If not for Doran's quick thinking, if not for him taking her to the ocean, using the cool waters to break her fever, she would never had had the chance to hold her son. To hear the tiny sounds he made. To see the vibrant grey of his eyes or the dark wisps of hair he already possessed. To feel his little fingers wrap around her own. It was nearly heart stopping to even think about.

Rising from her bed, still weak, she carefully moved to the cradle by the window, smiling as she lifted her baby into her arms, cradling him close, moving to sit on the low lounger that Mellario had brought to her room a few days earlier. It made feeding and holding her son easier given her still weakened body. Maester Servan said the weakness would pass, that it was merely her body adjusting to such a sudden and traumatic change.

When her son made a soft sound, a low, hungry whine, she carefully shifted him so she could pull her tunic open, lifting him so he could nurse.

She still remembered the look on the wet-nurse's face when the woman had thought to take her son that first morning after she'd birthed him. The shock and flicker of fear as she, still so very weak, had managed to hurl a pitcher of water in the woman's general direction while snarling _"I am the She-Wolf of Dorne and by the Gods_ I _will nurse_ my _son. Now get the hell out!"_

Mellario, who'd been sitting with her, had been impressed by the display, had even helped her to hold her son for that first nursing, her good-sister had aided many mornings after that until Lyanna was strong enough to do it herself. Word had quickly spread that her temper had returned and she laughed when her servant girl, Mira, told her that many were saying that she did indeed have wolf's blood in her veins.

She smiled as she looked at her son, nursing easily and contentedly, and she tipped her head down to press a quick kiss those downy, wispy strands of hair.

"My little pup," she cooed to him as she heard the door to her chamber open, the soft sound of feet telling her that it wasn't Mellario or Mira. "My little Jon."

"Mama!" Tyene's voice broke the quiet and then there was a sudden thwacking sound and Tyene's yelp.

"Shh!" Obara growled. "You said you'd be quiet, stupid."

"Jon's probably still sleeping, Tyene," Nymeria softly whispered and there was a soft, agreeing sound from Sarella. "So we have to be quiet remember?"

Jon, very accustomed to the sound of his sisters voices, stopped nursing and made happy baby noises. Lyanna, knowing she wouldn't get him back to her breast for a while, lifted him to rest against her shoulder, tugging her tunic back into place, before she began burping him as the girls stepped around the corner that led from the doors into the open space of the room. Obara was, as was the norm for the girls, in the lead. As eldest she took it upon herself to lead the way, to ensure there was no danger to her sisters. She was followed, closely, by Nymeria, who was holding Sarella, even though the toddler was fully capable of walking, so long as her hand was held so she had help balancing. Just to Nymeria's left, rubbing her arm no doubt where Obara had hit her, was Tyene, a pretty little pout on her face.

"Good morning, little snakes," Lyanna greeted them as Jon burped, giving a happy cooing sound before he snuggled against her shoulder, content where he was.

"Mama!" Tyene immediately rushed over, carefully climbing up onto the lounger, tucking herself against Lyanna's side while reaching up to lightly lay her hand against Jon's side. "Hello, Jon."

At the sound of her voice Jon turned his head, eyes half opening as he gurgled and made soft sounds. Tyene smiled as bright as the sun as her sisters moved to stand around the lounger. Obara smiled a bit as she looked at Jon while Nymeria sat by Lyanna's legs, Sarella crawling over to sit between them, looking at Jon curiously. "Baby," she said as she looked from Jon to Lyanna, seeking confirmation that the word was correct and when Lyanna nodded she smiled. "Baby Jon."

Nymeria giggled even as Obara reached out, offering her hand to Jon, who immediately clutched at her fingers, his grasp strong for so small a babe.

"He'll be strong," Obara said softly, always careful not to raise her voice, not wanting to upset her brother. "Like Papa." She looked at Lyanna. "Like you."

Lyanna smiled, reaching out to tuck Obara's hair behind her ear. "He will be strong like you too, Obara. He will grow with you and your sisters and you will help make him strong."

"We all will help to ensure that the little Wolf Prince grows up strong."

Lyanna looked up at the sound of Mellario's voice, finding her good-sister standing there, smiling, holding Quentyn in her arms. "Mel," she said with a soft smile, surprised by the early morning visit. Mellario's expression told her this was more than a morning visit. "Girls," Mellario said as she looked at her nieces. "I need to speak to Lyanna in private. Would you mind heading to your lessons?"

Nymeria and Tyene looked like they wanted to protect but after a quick glare from Obara they climbed from the lounger, Nymeria lifting Sarella back up into her arms. The four left, but all kept glancing back, clearly curious but obeying none the less. Mellario waited until they were gone before she walked over, sitting on the foot of the lounger, shifting her son to a more comfortable position in her arms.

"There's news from the capitol," Mellario said after a few minutes of silence and Lyanna, who hadn't been told anything about the Rebellion for fear of it causing her unnecessary stress, stiffened visibly and Jon whimpered in response to her sudden obvious discomfort. She immediately forced herself to relax, rubbing a hand lightly over Jon's back to sooth him.

"What...What's happened, Mel?"

"Aerys is dead."

Lyanna blinked.

The Mad King was...

"How?" She had to know, the part of her that had longed for the man's death, had to know how her father's murderer had died.

"Apparently he was stabbed. In the back. By a member of his Kingsguard."

Now that was surprising.

The Kingsguard swore to obey and protect their King.

"Which member?"

Mellario looked down at Quentyn, running her hand over her son's dark hair.

"Ser Jaime Lannister."

Lyanna stilled, completely, and just sat there staring at her good-sister. Jaime Lannister. Son of Lord Tywin Lannister. She'd met the young knight, briefly, at Harrenhal. He'd been charming, with a bright smile and the obvious, eager desire to be a good knight. To know that he'd killed Aerys was a surprising and almost unbelievable thing. She drew a deep breath, pushing down the part of her that was screaming that Jaime Lannister had stolen her chance at avenging her family, looking at Mellario as calmly as she could.

"If Aerys is dead then...then what..."

"Lord Tywin's forces took the city before Robert's army reached it and...and they sacked the city."

Lyanna's heart leapt into her throat. "Elia...what happened to..."

"She and her children are safe. Contrary to what Robert will ever know."

Lyanna breathed a sigh of relief. "They are some place safe then?"

Mellario nodded. "Soon they will venture far from Robert's reach."

"Robert's been named King then?"

Another nod. "With the Lannisters supporting him there was no chance at any refuting his claim. And, I'm told, his grandmother was Targaryen so he can always claim royal blood that way."

Lyanna huffed. "I don't care if he sits on that monstrosity of a throne and ends up shoving a sword up his arse," she snarked as Jon shifted against her shoulder, his tiny hands grabbing hold of her hair and tugging lightly, forcing her to untangle his fingers from the tresses. "Elia and her children are safe. Oberyn is safe. And now I do not have to fear my last remaining brothers being murdered because of a mad man."

"A mad man you would have preferred died by your hand rather than Ser Jaime's."

Mellario's observation was spot on but Lyanna said nothing on the subject. Her good-sister was not a fool. The woman did not need to hear her admit that some part of her would always hate Jaime Lannister for taking her revenge from her. Looking down at her son Lyanna drew a deep breath and pressed a soft kiss to his head before she looked back at Mellario.

"I suppose Doran will support Robert's reign, if only to keep the peace," she said as a way of changing the conversation as best she could.

"I suspect such but he's not spoken of it to me. He rode for Sunspear to meet Oberyn before dawn."

Lyanna sighed and glanced again at Jon. How would Oberyn take the news that he was a father once again? How would he react when he learned she had purposely kept that news from him? Kissing her son again she shifted him from her shoulder to cradle him against her chest. Mellario, sensing her unease, began telling her about how Arianne had begun sitting in on council meetings with her father. It helped ease some of her tension but Lyanna kept thinking about Oberyn, about the Rebellion, about how much so many lives, including her own, had changed.


	24. Chapter 24

Oberyn rode into the stables of the Water Gardens just before noon.

He glanced towards the wagon, secreted from King's Landing and through the mountains to Dorne, the passengers it carried was precious beyond compare. Passengers that would, by nightfall, be secreted away again to some place far from those who would harm them. Far from Dorne and the family that would support and protect them. The only comfort was they would not be travelling alone. They would have protection but, to Oberyn at least, it was not enough.

He glanced across the yard as he climbed from the saddle, watching Jon Connington, climbed from his own mount, moving to stand next to the wagon, hand on the hilt of his sword. Ready for anything even in he safety of the Water Gardens. Connington had been a Lord, had been Hand of the King, but after the Battle of the Bells he had been exiled by Aerys. The Mad King had blamed Connington for the lost battle and Robert's escape. Now, only months later, Connington would serve as protect for Elia and her children. While others would question the decision, Oberyn saw the wisdom in it.

Connington had loved Rhaegar, deeply and truly, and he would do anything to protect those the Prince had loved.

A man climbed from the wagon then, dressed in plain clothes and looking no different than a common man but Oberyn saw the tension in his shoulders. Saw the sharp way those dark eyes flickered about, checking for danger, and knew that Ser Oswell Whent would forever be a wary man now. Oswell turned back to the wagon, extending his hand and helping a down.

Elia, looking exhausted from two weeks of hard travel, cradled her son to chest with one arm while reaching back for her daughter with the other. Little Rhaenys all but plastered herself to Elia's legs, clinging to her mother's skirt, clearly frightened but trying to be brave because her mother was.

Oberyn started to move, started to cross to his sister, wanting to check and be certain they were all fine, only to stop when a hand caught his arm. Turning he found Doran standing next to him, watching him with impossibly dark eyes, face as unreadable as ever. "Doran," he started but Doran gave his arm a firm squeeze and he immediately fell silent.

"You should go to Lyanna."

Oberyn blinked.

"I will see her once I get Elia and the children settled. I..."

"Oberyn." It was Doran's tone, the _I am your brother and you need to listen to me_ tone that he so rarely used, even with Oberyn. "You should go to Lyanna."

Oberyn stared at Doran and Doran stared right back.

"Doran, Lyanna will wait for..."

Doran's grip suddenly tightened and Oberyn winced at the strength of his brother's grip. He often forgot that Doran had trained as a knight for years before their mother had passed and he became Prince of Dorne. "Oberyn," Doran all but growled as he gave Oberyn a slight shake. "Go. To. Lyanna."

He wasn't certain if it was the way Doran spoke or the sudden flash in his brother's eyes but Oberyn nodded.

Doran regarded him for a moment, most likely trying to see if Oberyn was being honest, before he released his brother's arm. "I'll see Elia and her children to their room," the Prince of Dorne said before stepping passed Oberyn, who watched him go before he sighed and headed off towards the wing of the Water Gardens where Lyanna's chamber was.

He passed through the training yard on his way, seeing Obara and Nymeria sparring with one another, Tyene sitting in the shade with a toddler he did not recognize though looked familiar. Perhaps a daughter of one of the servants. He saw his eldest girl look at him as she spun, twirling her spear with ease, her eyes hardened almost immediately and Nymeria glanced over her shoulder at him before looking away quickly. Even Tyene barely glanced at him, focusing instead on the little girl she was with. Their reactions to him told him that something was most certainly going on. His little snakes had always greeted him with laughter and smiles. Now they acted as though they didn't know who he was.

It had him walking, all the quicker, to Lyanna's chamber.

With Doran's insistance that he see his wife and the way the girls, who all adored Lyanna and viewed her as their mother, were acting it told him that something had happened.

Entering his wife's chambers he found the windows and the balcony doors had been opened and the soft breeze that blew in brought with it cool air and the scent of the sea. The room was peaceful and calm and, after glancing towards the bed in search of Lyanna, he found her laying, half curled up, on a lounger, something Mellario had suggested no doubt. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be asleep and, normally, he would have turned and left, leaving her to her rest, but he remained where he was.

Lyanna was pale, much paler than he recalled her to be, and he worried for a moment that she was ill. But surely that wasn't the case. Doran would have sent him word had his wife fallen ill. Wouldn't he?

Slowly he stepped closer. "Lyanna?"

He watched as she drew a deep breath, her lashes fluttering softly as she opened her eyes, looking at him, surprise very evident in those sparkling grey eyes. They stared at one another for several long, silent moments before she drew another breath, clearly about to speak, but before she could a soft, gurgling cry broke the silence. He watched, shocked, as she rose, slowly, almost weakly, and gathered an infant from the cradle near her bed. She quieted the babe, holding the tiny being to her breast, looking at him as she did. 

“This is Jon,” she said with a small smile, the babe making a soft cooing sort of sound as tiny hands reached up to grab at her hair which had tumbled down over her shoulders. “Your son.”

Oberyn opened his mouth to say something but all he managed to do was do a very good imitation of a landed fish. Somehow that must have amused Lyanna because her smile widen as she looked down at her... _their_...son.

"Your father is lost for words, pup," she cooed to the baby who, now that Oberyn was looking closer, more attentively, looked so very much like Lyanna. A dark wisp of hair and, when tiny eyes opened, eyes the color of dark smoke. "I think your Uncle Doran will be very amused to hear about that."

"You..." Oberyn cleared his throat, trying to calm the sudden race of thoughts, before stepping a little closer. His wife looked up at him and he found her gaze to be just as strong as it had been the day they'd married. "Why did you not send word?"

Lyanna huffed and gently rocked Jon. "Because you had other...matters to attend to." Jon cooed and she smiled down at him before looking back up at Oberyn. "And...And to be truthful I didn't think it would matter to you."

Oberyn blinked.

Had she just said...

"Of course it would have mattered!" His voice, raised much louder than it should have been, seemed to startle Jon because the babe began whimpering and making the sort of discomforted sounds an infant made before bursting into tears, and he immediately regretted it because Lyanna had to rock their son, lifting him to her shoulder and rubbing his back to sooth him. All the while she glared at him.

_She-wolf indeed,_ he thought as Jon quieted, snuggling into his mother's shoulder and hiccupping lightly.

"I'm sorry," he said in a softer voice. "I shouldn't have...have yelled. But Lyanna...our son...you...you could have written. You shouldn't have had to...to go through everything alone."

"I wasn't alone. Mellario was with me and helped me, thank the Gods. And Doran..."

"Doran is not your husband."

Though he kept his voice down and sounded calm he knew she'd seen a flash of anger in his eyes because she bristled, visibly, but forced herself to relax as Jon shifted against her shoulder, picking up on her tension.

"No," Lyanna agreed bitterly as she carefully rubbed Jon's back. "He is not. But my husband...my husband was not here when I needed him. He wasn't here when I suffered and bled to bring my...our...son into the world. He wasn't here when I felt like my skin was on fire and I thought I would die before I ever got to hold the babe I'd brought into the world. My husband wasn't the one to carry me out to the ocean. He wasn't the one who held me in the water in order to break my fever.

That...That, Oberyn, _was_ Doran."

Oberyn's heart leapt into his throat.

Birthing fever.

He remembered stories, from Doran and servants, of how his own mother had suffered birthing fever with his brothers, Mors and Olyvar, both of whom had died in infancy and, with Olyvar, his mother had nearly died as well. He knew that Lyanna had been lucky to survive. That Doran's actions had saved the mother of his son, his first son, and the woman his daughters look on as their mother. It explained why she was so much paler than she had been. Why she had seemed weak when she rose from the lounger.

He wanted to speak, to say something, anything, to comfort his wife, but she continued to speak when he failed to find the words he was searching for.

"I do not expect anything from you, Oberyn." She looked at Jon, nestled safely against her, clearly upset but remaining as calm as possible for her son's sake. "Only that you are a good father to the children. They deserve that."

Oberyn frowned.

"And you? Do you not deserve more than an absent husband who cares for you but does not love you?"

Lyanna went completely still then, her gaze remaining fixed on Jon for a long moment, before she looked back up at Oberyn. Gaze as cold as ice. "Only the Gods know what I deserve, Oberyn," she said as she carefully shifted Jon from her shoulder to cradle him against her chest. "I only know what I expect and, as I have already said, I do not expect anything from you. Or, I suppose, I do not expect anything you are not willing to give."

Oberyn drew a deep breath and, was about to say something about that, but Lyanna stepped forward.

"For the moment," she said. "I think it's time you held your son."

She easily handed Jon over to him and, after years of raising his own daughters and being there when Arianne had been a baby, he instinctively manuevered his arms, cradling his infant son to his chest. Grey eyes, so dark they were nearly black, peered up at him even as Jon made a soft cooing sound, his tiny hands fisting in the fabric of Oberyn's tunic. It was immediate, the love for his son, just as it had been for his girls. This tiny being was a part of him and he would forever love and protect him.

Looking back to Lyanna he found his wife had returned to the lounger, her position relaxed and a small, barely there, smile graced her face. Her words echoed in his mind, her declaration of expecting nothing from him that he was not willing to give, but he pushed them aside. He cared for her, perhaps one day might love her in some sense, for she was the mother of his son, had chosen to be a mother to his daughters, and, as he'd said, she deserved more than he was willing to give.


	25. Chapter 25

Oberyn left his wife and son in the comfort of their chamber and went in search of his daughters. All four of them.

It had been surprising to hear that, while he had been gone, Valka, whom he'd had a brief relationship with quite some time ago, had come to the Water Gardens and left behind the daughter he had fathered on her.

Sarella.

Lyanna had said the girl's name was Sarella and, despite barely being two, she was bright and curious about the world around her.

Reaching the training yard, the girls still there, he stood back, just out of their line of sight, watching them. Obara was practicing by herself, twirling her spear around and looking as though she was dancing. Nymeria was curled up in the shade, Tyene sitting a few feet from her, playing with a set of dolls with the little girl he'd early thought to be the child of a servant but now that he was looking closer he could see the traits in her fact that marked her a daughter, however illegitimate, of House Martell.

He smiled as he watched them, feeling his love for his children swell, and he drew a deep breath as he stepped forward. Nymeria spotted him first and let out a soft whistle, some sort of code she and Obara had worked out because, before he got too close he was dodging the blunt end of Obara's spear as it danced, far too closely, in front of his face. He turned to face his eldest, seeing rage in her nearly black eyes, could see it in her stance. She twirled her spear, letting the shaft rest against her back, and Oberyn knew it would be her that he had to work hardest to earn forgiveness from.

"You're skill has come a long way. Though your form still needs work."

Obara huffed angrily. "It wouldn't if you hadn't left."

Oberyn wasn't a fool. He knew her anger wasn't because he hadn't been there to help her train. "I was needed elsewhere, Obara."

"You were needed _here_." 

Her eyes flashed with rage and fire and, for a moment, it was easy to forget that she wasn't Lyanna's daughter. They shared the same fierceness. He knew nothing he said would make a difference and, because he could not risk telling Obara the truth of why he had been gone for so long, he knew his options were few. Drawing a deep breath he moved to pick up one of the practice spears from the nearby weapons rack, spinning it easily, lightly, above his head before turning to face his daughter.

"If you're so angry with me, sweet one, then take that anger out on me."

Obara's eyes flashed again and her gaze dipped to the spear and back to his face and despite her obvious rage she wisely hesitated. She knew her father's reputation and, his daughter or not, that made her wary. But she was also angry and, as Oberyn had tried to teach her and her sisters, anger made people, even the most calm and logical of people, do stupid things. Such as lash out as Obara proceeded to do once her anger overcame her wariness.

Oberyn easily parried the movement, years of experience allowing him to counter each attack. Obara wasn't thinking clearly, she was letting her anger, her anger at him for leaving, for, as she saw it, his abandoning Lyanna when his wife, the woman Obara viewed as her mother, had so obviously needed him. He spared with his eldest, letting the mock fight continue for a few moments before he spun, using the shaft of his spear to strike Obara in the back, knocking her to the ground, sending her spear rolling across the ground.

She glared up at him as he towered over her, the tip of his spear pointing towards the ground.

"I know you are angry with me," he said as he glanced at his other daughters. "All of you are. And I understand why. But I was doing as I was commanded by our Prince. One day...one day you will understand what that means."

Obara's expression said she didn't believe him.

"Obara..."

"You should have been here!" He'd never heard her shout like that before and he felt his heart plummet as he saw the tears she was trying furiously to blink away. "Mother...Lyanna needed you! Uncle Doran said she nearly died!" Obara pushed herself to her feet, glaring daggers at him even as her tears spilled down her face. "She needed you and you weren't here! She could have died, alone and scared, and you wouldn't have known for Gods know how long because _you weren't here_!"

It became clear then why Obara was so upset.

It was more than him not being in the Water Gardens for Lyanna.

Obara had nearly lost someone she looked up to, someone she loved, viewed as her mother and she had been afraid and her father hadn't been there. She acted so strong and tough but she was still just a twelve-year-old girl. A twelve-year-old girl who had been frightened by the near loss of someone she loved and was now blaming that fear on the only person she could.

Slowly setting his spear down Oberyn stepped towards Obara, who had started to sob, and he immediately scooped her up, cradling her close even as she struggled, pushing at his chest, trying to squirm free all while shouting. "Put me down! I'm...I'm not a baby! Put me down!"

He held her tighter, even when she beat her fists against his chests, letting her wear herself out. Her tears soaked through his tunic and he immediately ran his hand over her hair. "That's it, sweet one," he whispered as he carried her over to the shaded area where her sisters were still sitting, all watching with wide eyes. "Let it out."

Obara sobbed, her face now half buried in his shoulder.

"You should...have...been here..."

"I'm here now, sweet one," he replied as he sat down, still holding Obara, his other daughters merely watching in silence, clearly uncertain what to do though Tyene shuffled a little closer, clearly wanting to comfort Obara.

Obara cried for a little longer, her hands going from beating at him to cling to his tunic, her face buried in his shoulder as she sobbed until, finally all cried out. He ran his fingers through her hair and knew this wouldn't be nearly enough to fully earn her forgiveness. It would take time. Time and effort that he was more than willing to give. He smiled a bit as Tyene reached out, touching Obara's arm even as Nymeria and Sarella moved closer, Nymeria looking at him with the most serious expression he had ever seen on her pretty little face.

"Are you going away again, Papa?"

Oberyn smiled and shook his head. "Not for a long while, Nym."

Nymeria's expression remained serious but she nodded while turning her gaze to her sister, reaching out to rub Obara's back, whispering softly to her in old Rhoynish that everything was going to be alright now. Oberyn hugged his eldest a little tighter, pressing a quick kiss to her hair before he began singing softly to her, an old lullaby his mother had sung to him when he'd been a boy. It had the desired effect as, quickly after he'd begun singing, all the girls were pressed around him, even little Sarella who did not know him, listening with content, little smiles.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is one of the shortest but it didn't need to be any longer. It's just fine the length it is.

An hour or so before sunset and Lyanna, rocking her son, was surprised when Mira entered her chamber.

"Forgive me, Princess," the girl said with a slight bow. "I know you did not wish to be disturbed but...well..."

"Oh do step aside, Mira dear, my good-sister should not mind receiving me."

Lyanna looked up, watching in silence, as Elia Martell walked into the room, stepping by Mira, cradling her own son to her chest, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Mira bowed before leaving them alone and, as she left, Lyanna noticed Ser Oswell in the shadows by the door. She turned her attention to Elia, who was looking at Jon with a soft smile.

"He's beautiful," Elia barely whispered, her dark gaze slowly lifting to Lyanna's face. "Oberyn told me he didn't know until he returned."

Lyanna hummed.

"He had...more important things to do."

Elia looked at her own son, nearly a year old with his father's silver hair and violet eyes, and smiled sadly. "He should have been here, with you," she said as she looked at Lyanna again. "For all that I am grateful that he and Lord Varys managed to spirit us from the capitol I can't help but feel that his place was here. With you."

Lyanna shook her head, hair tumbling down over her shoulders, Jon's tiny hands tangling almost immediately in the dark locks. "Oberyn was where he was needed," she spoke as she gently tugged her son's hands from her hair, lifting them to brush butterfly kisses over his little fingers, making him giggle and reach out to touch her face. "If he had not been, then you and you're children..."

She bit her lip and drew a deep breath.

"The past cannot be changed. No matter how much we may wish it to be."

Elia smiled, the saddest smile Lyanna had ever seen, looking down at her son, the true heir to the Iron Throne. "No," the Dornish Princess, the woman who should be Queen Regent, whispered, tears dotting her lashes. "No it can't."

Lyanna looked at her good-sister, the woman who, had things been different, would have been a remarkable Queen. Would have been loved and admired by thousands. Would have instilled a tolerance and acceptance among her people that had never been before. It broke Lyanna's heart to know that that future, a future that had been so bright and hopeful, would never be. Even if Doran or someone else managed to restore Targaryen rule that future was gone. Like some many lives. Like her father and brother. Like Rhaegar. All because of one mad man and one stubborn Storm Lord who had managed to rebel when no other would have dared. All because of a cowardly Lion who liked to call himself a Lord.

Balancing her son in the crook of her arm she reached out and touched Elia's hand.

"I would kill them all for you," were not the words she’d planned on saying, but she would not recall them even if she could, for they were the truth. "I would kill each one responsible if it meant returning what you have lost."

Elia looked at her, face weary, tears dotting her lashes but she was still strong. Still a Princess of Dorne. Still the mother of a Dragon. "Their time will come," she said softly, gently rocking the babe she held. "For now…For now we look to the future. To our sons, who we shall raise to be strong and honorable."

Lyanna nodded, looking at Aegon, the sweet little babe who would grow with such a weight upon his shoulders. She hugged Jon a little closer.

"One day, we will take it all back and more," Elia said as she looked from her good-sister to her son. To her precious little Aegon, her darling little Dragon. "For the families we have lost. For justice and vengeance." She looked at Lyanna again and, in those dark eyes, she saw her own desire for revenge reflected back at her. "For fire and blood."

Lyanna smiled. "Winter is coming and only we shall stand unbowed, unbent and unbroken."

Elia took Lyanna's hand and the two smiled together.


	27. Chapter 27

Time passed quickly for Lyanna after Elia and her children departed for Essos.

She tended to her son and regained her strength. 

She spent her days in numerous ways. She sat in the shade and watched her darling Obara spare with Areo, Nymeria and Oberyn in turns. She went riding through the sandy hills with Nymeria, showing that her Northern mount was just as good as a sand horse. She took walks along the beach with Tyene and Sarella, picking up shells and laughing when Sarella tried to chase the sea birds.

In the evenings she would retire to her chamber where she would hold and rock her son, singing to him softly, telling him tales her mother had told her when she had been a child, telling him of Winterfell and all the places in the North she would take him when he was old enough. 

All the while she listened to the news brought by the ravens.

Queen Rhaella had died in childbirth on Dragonstone but her children, Viserys and a newborn daughter, Daenerys, had been spirited away to Essos and hidden somewhere.

Robert Baratheon had been crowned King of Westeros and Jon Arryn was his Hand.

Along with news of Robert's coronation came word that the new King planned to visit Dorne, to try and establish some sort of peace considering that, as far as the rest of Westeros was concerned, Elia and her children had been killed during the Sacking of King's Landing and many nobles, including Jon Arryn, worried that Doran would retaliate by declaring war. The only thing about Robert's visit that Lyanna was happy about was that, according to Jon Arryn's letter, Ned was traveling with the King.

It was nearly three weeks after Jon Arryn's letter came that Robert and Ned reached Sunspear, word came quickly from the city to the Water Gardens and Lyanna was sitting in one of the pools, holding Jon while he slapped at the water and giggled happily, when Mira came to tell her. She thanked the girl before waving her away, smiling as Jon continued to play, her little pup enjoying himself. She wondered, for a moment, how Ned would seem. He'd been fighting for nearly a year and he was hardly bound to be the same man she remembered. But no matter how changed he was he would still be her brother. Still her Ned.

"You're going to adore you uncle, pup," she said to her son as she stood, holding him close, his big grey eyes staring up at her even as hands gripped at her tunic.

She walked from the pools to her chambers, changing Jon into dry clothes before laying him in his cradle. She listened to him coo and giggle as she changed her own clothes, swapping her trousers and tunic for a light cotton dress. Twisting her hair up into a loose knot she walked back over to the cradle, picking up the toy wolf Doran had had made for Jon and smiled as her son immediately reached out for it, grinning and laughing as she made the wolf dance about. Jon's hand grasped hold of the wolf's head and she laughed as he immediately tried to mouth at the nose when she heard the commotion outside her chamber.

Frowning, she laid the toy in the cradle with Jon, turning to cross to the open area of her chamber just as the doors opened and Robert, bold as you pleased, stormed into the room, Mira right behind him.

"Apologies, Princess," the girl said, gaze darting from Lyanna to Robert and back again, clearly uncertain of what to do. "He...His Grace insisted...and I tried to...I said I'd fetch you...and..."

"It's fine, Mira." Lyanna smiled at the girl, who relaxed visibly. "You may go."

Mira looked uncertain again but nodded before slowly stepping out, the doors closing behind her. Lyanna waiting until they were shut before levelling Robert with a glare. "You do realize that just because you are a King now that doesn't mean you can just barge into my chambers as you please, don't you?"

Robert snorted. "You haven't lost any of your bite, Lya." He glanced around the room, clearly taking everything in. "At least the snake gave you a decent room."

Lyanna frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, frowning at him. "I would take it as a kindness, _Your Grace_ , if you would not call my husband a snake."

Robert gave her a look before laughing, that deep rich laugh that, once, had been somewhat charming but now made her grind her teeth because she knew he thought she was joking. "Oh, Lya, you had me going for a moment," he chuckled and Lyanna fought down the urge to growl. "Defending him, the snake who stole you away."

Lyanna did growl then. She may not love Oberyn but she would not take insults to him. He was a good man and deserved more than slurs and digs from a man who, only months ago, had been a rebel fighting to overthrow a king. Titles did not make men. Crowns did not make them. Actions and words made men. And, despite everything, Oberyn's actions had proven to her that he more of a man than Robert Baratheon could ever hope to be.

"You make me sound like some sort of toy."

Robert blinked. "Lya..."

"Even when we were betrothed you treated me as an object to be possessed. You never once _saw me_."

"That's...That's not true!" Robert both infuriated and as though she'd slapped him. "I love you, Lya! I'll always love you!"

"But I'm not yours to love!"

She drew a deep breath, forcing herself to calm, not wanting to risk shouting again for fear that it would upset Jon who was still playing oh so quietly in his cradle.

"You could be."

She blinked, confused by Robert's words and, before she could ask him what he meant, he continued to speak.

"I'm King, now, Lya, I could dissolve your marriage. We could be together like we were meant to be." He grabbed hold of her shoulders and gave her this oh-so-hopeful look, as though she should be happy with what he was saying. "We can be married and..."

Lyanna pushed away from Robert, looking at him like he'd grown a second head, all the while stepping back a little further. "You cannot be serious," she shook her head. "You can't dissolve my marriage, Robert."

Robert chuckled.

"Of course I can. I'm King, Lya."

Lyanna scoffed and shook her head. "I'm not going to let you just...just steal me from my husband. From my family."

"Lya..."

"You are not dissolving my marriage," she snarled. "Because, not only am I happy here, Robert, I am..."

Jon chose that exact moment to let out an unhappy wail and Lyanna reacted immediately, crossing to his cradle and lifting him into her arms, rocking him soothingly. "Shh, there now, pup, it's alright. Mama's here. Shh."

She turned slightly, seeing the utterly dumbfounded look on Robert's face and, though she merely smiled, inside she was gloating gleefully. _That's right, Robert, you fool. You can't take me. Not now. Not ever. I was never yours and I never will be._ She hummed the tune to the _Dornishman's Wife_ softly as she continued to rock her son until he'd calmed, his hands clenched in the fabric of her dress, his sweet face, red from crying, hidden in her shoulder.

"Your Grace," she made certain to say the title sweetly, still smiling, still rocking her son. "I would like you to meet my son. This is Jon Martell, a Prince of Dorne."

Robert stared at Jon, just stared, as though trying to find proof of deception. Lyanna knew, if her son had looked ever remotely Dornish, Robert would have likely argued with her, called her words a lie, but Jon was the North. And that, she knew, was something that could never be denied. She chuckled softly when Robert did a very good imitation of a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing without a sound, and when the King looked at her, eyes wide and full of something that looked a lot like betrayal, her mirth turned to irritation.

"Lya..."

Whatever Robert meant to say was silenced when the door to her chambers opened and Oberyn all but stormed in. The look on his face, one of silent fury, was very much like the one he had worn the morning of their wedding, in the stables, when he and his uncle had caught Robert striking her. " _Your Grace_ ," Oberyn spat the title as though it were something foul tasting that he could not stand to have in his mouth.

The two men glared at one another and Lyanna rolled her eyes.

"Another man might find it odd, Your Grace," Oberyn continued, voice calm but Lyanna heard the disdain clear as day. "To find you in his wife's chambers."

Robert bristled. "I am visiting an old friend."

"Despite my brother asking you to wait in his solar for someone to fetch her."

"I am not a man to whom orders are given."

Oberyn sneered. "No," he agreed, voice dripping with venom. "You are a man who lets the killing of innocent children and the rape and murder of a Princess go unpunished."

Lyanna drew a sharp breath and looked as though she was upset by Oberyn's words. It was a lie of course. The fate of Elia and her children. But it was a necessary lie. She knew, because Oberyn had told her, that a Dornish woman, who looked nearly identical to Elia, had taken the Princess' place. The children had been lowborn, orphans taken from Flea Bottom. While Lyanna did not approve of any of it, the three had died horribly, she would not deny she was glad Elia and her children had been spared that horrid fate.

Robert took her reaction as it meant to be and glanced at her, looking upset, for a moment, before he scowled at Oberyn. "It was war, Prince Oberyn. Not murder. War."

Oberyn chuckled darkly, humourlessly, gaze narrowed dangerously.

"You call it war. But I know differently."

Robert opened his mouth, about to retort, but Jon let out a whine, sensing the tension in the room and Lyanna immediately began rocking him, trying to sooth him. She wasn't surprised when Oberyn moved from where he stood, reaching out to rub his hand over Jon's back before gently taking him from her arms, tucking him against his chest. "There, there, my little wolf," Oberyn cooed to his son, head tipping to press a quick kiss to Jon's dark curls. "All is well."

The sound of Oberyn's voice was all it took for Jon to settle back down, the boy snuggling against his father's chest, and Oberyn looked at Robert. "If you would kindly take your leave, _Your Grace_. I would like to speak with my wife in private."

Robert looked like he was about to argue but Lyanna, well accustomed to using her wiles on him, she'd done it often to get away from him during their time betrothed, gave him a soft look and he gave the smallest of nods. "I will be in the solar with your brother, Lya."

Lyanna waited until he had left, until the door was shut firmly behind the man, before she sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "Gods save me from useless men."

Oberyn's eyebrow arched slightly and she huffed, rolling her eyes at him even as she cuffed him in the shoulder.

"You know what I mean."

He hummed softly, rocking their son, a slight smile on his face. "Let that be a lesson, little wolf," he said to Jon, who peered up at him with those big grey eyes. "Never upset your Mama."

Rolling her eyes again she reached out, taking her son, who giggled and squirmed before settling against her shoulder, still smiling he reached up and patted at her chin, making her smile as she took hold of his little hand and kissed his fingers, earning more giggles from the tiny boy. Looking back at Oberyn, finding him smiling fondly, happily, she couldn't help the flutter of her heart. Clearing her throat slightly she blinked and looked away.

"Come now, pup," she said to Jon, who was looking up at her now. "I think it's time we introduced you to your Uncle Ned."

Jon giggled and made other happy, content baby noises as Lyanna carried him from the room.


	28. Chapter 28

Lyanna entered Doran's solar, carrying her son, feeling both happy and nervous all at the same time.

She hadn't seen her brother in over a year.

And so very much had changed.

She saw Ned standing by the windows, talking with Doran, while Robert was in one of the chairs, a glass of wine in his hand. She ignored Robert, especially when he cast a somewhat hopeful look her way, and focused completely on her brother who, after Doran looked at her and smiled, turned his head and saw her. The world seemed to slow down as Ned looked at her, a smile, happy and warm, spread across his face as he finally began to move, crossing the room towards her.

He carefully pulled her into his arms, mindful of her babe, and she managed to hold Jon with one arm while wrapping her other arm around him.

He tucked her to him like he used to when they were children, like Brandon used to, and she didn't even try to fight back the tears. This was her brother, her brother who'd gone to war for his friend, to avenge their family, and he was here, safe and alive. It was all she could have ever asked the Gods for.

As they slowly stepped apart, Lyanna reached up to cup Ned's cheek, tears sliding silently down her cheeks even as she smiled happily.

When Ned reached up to wipe the tears away she laughed softly even as his smile widened.

"No more tears, Lya," her brother said and Gods it was so wonderful to hear his voice again. He continued to smile as he looked down at Jon. "I believe you've someone to introduce me to."

Lyanna's smile widened and she shifted Jon, who peered at Ned with big grey eyes, a little higher in her arms. "This," she said as Jon reached up and patted at her chin. "Is Jon. My son."

Ned smiled as he held his hand out, Jon immediately grabbing and playing with his fingers, giggling happily as he peered up at Ned, clearly curious about him.

"Hello, Jon," Ned said warmly, reaching to tickle Jon lightly, which caused the boy to squeal with laughter and squirm in Lyanna's arms. "I'm your Uncle Ned."

Jon, still laughing, gazed up at Ned with a smile and, like most baby's who'd just discovered a new playmate, he reached out for his uncle, who was more than happy to take him from his mother. It made Lyanna's smile widen as Ned held Jon close, Jon's hands grabbing at Ned's beard and Ned, ever calm and patient, especially with children, carefully disentangled the boy's little fingers, tickling him and making him laugh and squirm. The sight warmed her heart and she laughed when Jon, ever resourceful, managed to grab hold of Ned's beard again and yanked, making Ned yelp, which had Jon giggling, even as Ned tugged his little hand away, growling softly, playfully.

Seeing her son and her brother together, something she'd feared would never happen, had her feeling better, happier, than she had in a long time and she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

 

_**oOoOoOo** _

 

The day went by quickly for Lyanna, who spent most of it with Ned. She'd shown him the whole of the Water Gardens and, by the time the sun had long ago set, they were sitting in one of the grand rooms used for entertaining guests, laughing together. It was funny to think that, if not for one simply, innocent kiss, this would not have been her life. She would have married Robert and been forced into a life where she was not happy, with a husband who professed to love her but truly loved wine and sex.

Ned, thankfully, distracted her from her thoughts by flicking a grape at her.

She laughed as she snatched the grape up and flung it back, barely missing taking her brother in the eye.

Ned chuckled and picked up the pitcher of water, refilling his glass even as Lyanna popped a grape into her mouth.

"I'm glad you're happy here, Lya," Ned said as he looked at her, smiling softly.

She chuckled as he sipped his water.

"Did you think I wouldn't be?"

Ned shrugged.

"I will not lie. I was worried you would be...a shadow of your former self."

Lyanna chuckled again, reaching over to cup Ned's cheek, smiling at her brother and, for a moment, he looked so very much like Brandon it nearly brought tears to her eyes. "I love you for worrying over me, Ned, but I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm a wife. A mother. And, though it might surprise many to hear, I'm happy here. I think...I think Dorne was where I was always meant to be."

"And Oberyn? Are you happy with him?"

Lyanna leaned back against her cushions and thought about that.

"I am." She finally said, still smiling. "I don't try to change him and he...he gives me a freedom I would never had had with Robert or...or anyone else."

"But you do not love him."

She gave a delicate shrug, picking up her own glass and draining it in one go, well accustomed to the Dornish wine.

"Love could come in time. That I care for him, that I bore him a child and am willing to raise his daughters as my own, without his asking, is enough."

Ned leaned over, wrapping his arm around her, hugging her and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Father would be proud of you."

Lyanna's throat tightened and she quickly blinked the tears away. "He would be proud of you too."

That made Ned laugh.

"I'm not sure how proud he'd be of a rebel."

"You fought for your friend. For your family. You helped end a reign of a madman." She touched his hand lightly. "Father would be proud of that."

Ned nodded and gave a small smile before the soft sound of Jon, sleeping in the blanketed bundle next to where Lyanna sat, stirring drew his sister's attention. She reached down, rubbing a hand lightly over her son's side as she softly hummed, soothing him back to sleep. She had just started to turn back to Ned when she heard Tyene's voice.

"Mama!"

Between one heartbeat and the next the little blonde girl was plastered to her side and Lyanna was laughing, especially since Tyene's shout had roused Robert somewhat from his stupor, he snorted and blinked blearily. "Hello, little snake," she cooed to Tyene, who was looking curiously at Ned with those big dark blue eyes. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?"

"Who's he," Tyene asked instead of answering and Lyanna smiled slightly as she looked at Ned.

"This, Tyene, is my brother, Eddard, but we call him Ned."

Tyene smiled at Ned before looking up at Lyanna. "Brother...Like Uncle Doran? Can I call him Uncle?"

Lyanna looked at Ned, saw the surprise in her brother's face, but more than that she saw the wonder. The wonder that a girl who wasn't hers would want to call him uncle. Smiling a little wider she looked back at Tyene. "Why don't you ask him, hmm?"

Tyene, still smiling that sweet smile, looked up at Ned.

"Can I?"

Ned, the quiet wolf of Winterfell, smiled and nodded. "I would be honoured to be your Uncle."

Tyene squealed with delight and proceeded to launch herself at Ned who caught her while laughing. Lyanna all but giggled as she watched Tyene hug Ned but when she noticed the way Robert was looking at her brother and step-daughter, the scow etched on his face, she almost growled. Thankfully, before he could say anything, Oberyn's voice sounded from the doorway Tyene had come through moments earlier.

"Tyene."

Tyene's head turned quickly and she looked at her father. "Papa."

Lyanna looked at her husband and felt her heart stutter slightly.

Oberyn stood, shirtless, wearing only a dark pair of trousers, hair dripping water and looking like some sort of dark God.

Lyanna blinked as Oberyn moved, walking slowly, calmly, towards them. Tyene, no doubt knowing exactly why her father was soaking wet, carefully climbed from Ned's lap and approached her father, hands twisting in the hem of her tunic. 

"Tyene," Oberyn said softly, expression completely neutral.

"I'm sorry." Tyene's her voice barely more than a whisper.

"For?"

"For making you fall in the bath."

Lyanna bit her lip to keep from laughing, seeing Ned turn his head to hide his amused smile. With a merely nod of his head Oberyn sent Tyene hurrying from the room, no doubt back to the baths where she was supposed to be, he waited until she was out the door before rubbing a hand over his face. "And to think she's the best behaved of my girls," he muttered and Lyanna found she just couldn't resist.

"Aww, poor thing," she cooed teasingly as she picked up a pillow, smiling, before tossing it at Oberyn, smacking him in the face with it.

"Woman!" Oberyn mock growled as he turned that dark gaze on her.

Lyanna gave as innocent a look as she could muster before letting out a shriek, she would latter deny, when Oberyn all but tackled her. "OBERYN!" She tried to push him away but he wrapped his arms around her, laughing the entire while. "Oberyn! You're soaking wet! Get off me you oaf!"

Despite her protests Lyanna found herself laughing, even when Oberyn shook his head, much like a dog, causing water to fly. She squealed when he pushed his face, wet beard and all, into the slope of her neck.

"Oberyn!"

Before she could say anything else Jon whined loudly and Oberyn, ever the attentive father, was moving, reaching down to gather his son, blanket and all into his arms.

"Shh now, little wolf," he said as he tucked Jon to his chest. "Papa will stop tormenting your Mama."

Lyanna smiled as Oberyn sat, holding their son, rocking him gently and, when Oberyn began to sing, her smile widened.

_"I rise up from bed and look to the east_  
 _And there before me, ten thousand ships in a fleet_  
 _And more yet I find here, a warrior queen_  
 _On her banners a sun blazes, and all this from the sea_

_The banners are unburnt, the dragons have not won_  
 _Our Rivers and deserts free from fire and blood_  
 _Unbroken we stand, Unbowed we are too_  
 _This Union of Dornish Spear and Rhoynish Sun_  
 _Of Martell Spear and Nymeria's Sun."_


	29. Chapter 29

Lyanna laughed as she watched Ned chased Obara and Nymeria across the beach.

Ned was smiling brightly as he laughed, roaring like a snow bear, which had Obara and Nymeria squealing with laughter. Obara kept telling her sister to run while Nymeria kept calling over her shoulder "You can't catch us, Uncle Ned! You can't catch us!"

She smiled as she looked down at Jon, who was sitting between her knees, happily playing with a seashell that Tyene had given him before she'd run off to build a sandcastle with Sarella. Jon, sensing her gaze, looked up at her, his smile bright, and he immediately reached for her. Her smile widening she gathered him in her arms, hugging him to her chest even as he reached up, tiny fingers twinning in her hair as he cooed happily.

"He truly is a beautiful child."

She looked up at the voice, watching as Robert, who'd been meeting with Doran for the better part of the day, sat next to her in the shade of the canopy. Looking back down at Jon, who was peering at Robert curiously, she found her smile widening. "He is," she agreed as Robert offered his hand to Jon who, in true baby fashion, immediately grabbed at his fingers, causing Robert to chuckle.

"He looks so much like you," Robert said as he smiled, moving to tickle Jon, making the boy squeal with delight. "Can't see a trace of that snake in him."

And there went her good mood.

She carefully shifted Jon away from Robert, setting him back on the blanket between her knees, handing him the seashell to keep him occupied as she turned her icy gaze on Robert, who didn't seem to realize he'd done anything to upset her. It infuriated her even further that a man who claimed to love her couldn't see the simplest things. Drawing a deep breath, just to keep from shouting or drawing unnecessary attention to them, Lyanna gave her former betrothed a patient look, one she often used on the girls when they were being unruly.

"I'm quite certain I've already asked you not to call Oberyn a snake."

Robert blinked.

"Lya..."

"And now I find I must insist you refrain from doing so. Especially in front of my son."

Robert blinked again, staring at Lyanna with a somewhat shocked expression and it reminded her that, for all his claims of loving her, Robert didn't know her. He saw a pretty face. Not the strength behind it. She knew then that, if they had been married, he would have been a cage. She would have withered to little more than a shell.

"Seems some of that sna..." Robert caught himself even as Lyanna's gaze narrowed again. "Seems some of your husband's venom has rubbed off on you."

She rolled her eyes and focused on Jon, who was trying to fit the seashell in his mouth. "I've always had venom, Robert," she said as she carefully pulled the shell from her son's mouth, ignoring his rather adorable pout. "You've just never looked hard enough to see it."

He frowned, as though considering that, but then shook his head.

"You've been in Dorne well over a year," he said as though that explained everything, all the changes in her, the things he was only now noticing that he truly should have noticed long before she'd married Oberyn. "It's changed you."

Lyanna huffed and all but glared at him.

"Just as your rebellion changed you, I suppose?"

He blinked, clearly confused by her words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said calmly, slowly, never taking her gaze from Robert's face. "I never would have thought you were the type of man to let the murder of an innocent woman and her children go unanswered."

That had the effect she had been looking for.

Robert's expression darkened.

"You've spent too much time listening to that damned snake."

Lyanna felt anger shoot through her like liquid fire. He thought her opinion was based on Oberyn? Did he think she was some foolish woman who just walked along behind her husband, agreeing with everything he said and did? Did he truly think she was that stupid and weak?

"This has nothing to do with Oberyn," she said, trying to keep her voice even and low.

"The hell it doesn't! This is that damned snake's doing! He's trying to poison your mind against me and..."

"You let the murder of my good-sister go unpunished!" Lyanna hadn't meant to shout, hadn't meant to cause Ned to stop and turn, his grey graze fixing on them immediately. "You did nothing after they presented her children, butchered and wrapped in Lannister cloaks to hide the blood and damage, to you while you sat on your new throne! You cared more for power and seeing Rhaegar's family dead than you did about justice!"

Robert's expression changed then, darkening further and she saw the rage in his eyes, saw his shoulder and arm twitch, and she remembered, clearly, the last time she'd angered him. But that didn't stop her from pressing on. If anything it spurred her on.

"You didn't care that Elia and her children were murdered! You just saw it as one less contender for your new throne! Don't try to act the higher man with me Robert. Not when you let the murder of babes go without justice."

"They were Dragonspawn!"

"They were my niece and nephew!" Tears welled up in Lyanna's eyes at the thought of what could have happened to Rhaenys and Aegon. If not for Oberyn and Varys. "My family! But you didn't care about that! Just like you didn't care to try and avenge my father and brother! All you cared about was your war and your power!"

Robert's eyes widened at the accusation. "Lya...Lya I...I rebelled for Rickard...for Brandon...to avenge them..."

"But it was not you who killed Aerys," she sneered at him. "It was Jaime Lannister. And I thank the Gods for giving him the strength to do it! My only regret in that is that I'll never get the chance to slit the bastard's throat myself!"

"Lyanna..."

"Don't try and justify what you did, what you _allowed_ to go unanswered, Robert. Because I know the truth. I've always known it. You let a murderer go unpunished and call it war because you don't want to face the truth. Just like you'll never be able to face the truth about us."

Lyanna hurriedly scooped Jon up, standing before Robert could stop her, before he could speak, and walking away. She crossed the sand to where Tyene and Sarella were building a sand castle and quickly sat down, smiling when the girls looked up, their happy faces showing no sign of having heard her shouting at Robert. Sarella immediately moved nearer, reaching out to pull Jon closer to her when Lyanna sat him down. He cooed and laughed and hugged tightly to his sister.

Glancing back at Robert she found Ned was standing with him. She could hear what her brother was saying but his hands were cutting through the air and his face was marred by a scowl and she knew that he wasn't happy. Robert was snarling back but she quickly looked away. It wasn't her concern. She'd had her say. If he couldn't accept her words than that was his problem not hers.

She laughed when Nymeria, having snuck up behind Tyene, dropped a tiny seashell down her younger sister's dress, making Tyene shout and squirm. She watched as Tyene, fishing the seashell from her clothing, turned on Nymeria chasing after her sister even as Obara dropped down to sit in the sand next to her.

"Is Uncle Ned going to punch the King?"

Lyanna looked over at the two men, watching Robert storm away from Ned, who stood there and watched him go. "I don't think so, little snake," she said as Ned, shaking his head, turned and began to make his way over to them. "Your Uncle isn't that sort of man. He's...Well, surprisingly, he's much like your Uncle Doran."

Obara seemed to consider that before she huffed. "I think he should just punch him."

That had Lyanna laughing as Ned joined them.

"I think I've missed the joke," he said with a small smile as he sat down.

Lyanna nodded and Obara just grinned as she stood and hurried off to chase Nymeria with Tyene. "She was hoping you'd punch Robert."

"If he had hit you again I would have."

Lyanna blinked.

"How did..."

"He talks when he's drunk, Lya." Ned reached up, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. "Babbled about how sorry he was one night for striking you. How Lewyn and Oberyn had been right to be angry."

Lyanna huffed. "Should have fed his balls to the dogs," she muttered but then looked at Ned with a soft smile. "What's done is done. No changing it now."

"Lya..."

"Let it go, Eddard."

Ned gave her a somewhat reproachful look before smiling and wrapping an arm around her in a hug. "If that's what you want, Lya."

She nodded and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Ned."

"Mama! Mama Nym keeps putting seashells down my dress!"

Tyene's shout had Lyanna biting her lip to keep from laughing and she had to take a moment to collect herself before turning to look at the girls, a short distance away, where Nymeria was indeed attempting to get more seashells down the back of Tyene's dress. "Nym," she called out, startling Nymeria and giving Tyene a chance to get away. "Stop picking on your sister!"

"I was only play..." Nymeria shrieked as Obara dropped a wet clod of sand over her head. Then the chase was on again.

Lyanna sighed and shook her head. "Were we ever that terrible?"

"You and I?" Ned shook his head. "No. But you and Benjen...Gods...like a nightmare."

Lyanna scoffed and pushed him over, laughing as he reached out and hauled her into the sand with him. They both laughed and Lyanna silently thanked the Gods for giving her the chance to have happy moments with her brother again. For giving her a happy family. It was all she could have ever asked for and more.


	30. Chapter 30

Ned's stay in Dorne was far too short for Lyanna's liking but she understood that he had a duty. He was Master of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, and, most importantly, he was a husband who had not seen his wife since their wedding night and a father who had yet to see or hold his firstborn son.

So she bid him farewell, denying there were tears in her eyes, and continued on.

She raised the girls and her son, spent time with her husband, who made her smile more and more as the days passed, and she continued to learn from Doran.

When word came from the capitol, announcing the marriage of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister, Lyanna had laughed herself silly. That union, she was certain, would end in disaster. 

Soon after there was a letter from Winterfell, from Ned, asking her to write to Benjen who, according to Ned, was talking of joining the Nights Watch. It chilled Lyanna to the bone to read those words and, as quickly as she could, she wrote to Benjen, all but pleading with him to carefully think things through, that, though it was an honourable calling, becoming a Brother of the Watch was not something done lightly. There would be a cost. Even if he didn't think so now. His reply was simple reassurance and, though he promised to carefully consider his options, she had the sinking feeling that he still planned on joining the Watch no matter what she or Ned said.

Life after that passed seemingly quickly.

Nearly two years since the wars end found Lyanna's life happy and content. The girls were doing well, both in training and their studies. Jon, her sweet little wolf pup, was walking, toddling around behind one of his sisters, and beginning to talk, though not a lot, he was, even for his age, a quiet child.

Of course it was also about that same time that Oberyn began spending more and more time away from the Water Gardens. At first Lyanna thought nothing of it, Doran had once told her that Oberyn often spent more time riding through Dorne than he did stopping in any one place, but after several months of not seeing him she began to wonder. He had seemed happy enough the last time she had seen him, but that had been quite some time ago. She couldn't clearly remember the last time in the past six months when the two of them had shared even a conversation. It was, however small a concern, enough to raise doubts in her mind. Doubts about Oberyn. About their marriage. About everything.

Trying to ignore her doubts, considering perhaps that it was just a minor rough phase for their marriage, she continued as she had been and it wasn't long before Jon's third name day was fast approaching, barely a few weeks away. 

One warm, sunny afternoon, she was sitting in one of the shaded pools with Mellario, laughing and watching as Quentyn and Jon splashed about in the shallow waters, when Mira, who'd come more a dear friend to Lyanna, came hurrying through on of the doorways, her expression one of uncertainty and concern. Mellario gave Lyanna a puzzled look and Lyanna shrugged even as Mira knelt quickly next to her.

"Mira, darling," Mellario said softly, regarding Mira's current state and wondering just what in the name of the Gods had happened to cause it. "You look absolutely frazzled. What ever is the matter?"

Mira bit her lip and looked from Mellario to Lyanna.

"I...well..."

Lyanna lightly touched Mira's arm. "It's alright, Mira. You can tell us."

Mira drew a slow, deep breath and gave a shallow nod.

"I was passing by Prince Doran's solar and...and I heard Prince Oberyn's voice."

Lyanna glanced at Mellario who shook her head, seemed her good-sister had been unaware of her husband's return as well.

"Go on, Mira," Mellario prompted with a softly smile.

Mira nodded.

"Well...as I said, I heard his voice and...and I know I shouldn't have stopped to listen but...but what he said caught my attention and I...I just couldn't believe it so I...I wanted to be certain before...before coming to Lya."

Lyanna frowned. "Coming to me? Mira, what did...what did you hear?"

"He...He was introducing someone to Prince Doran."

Lyanna looked at Mellario and saw a similar confusion reflected back at her. Why would that have caused such a reaction in Mira? Before she could give voice to that question Mira, no doubt sensing it, quickly continued.

"I...I am so sorry, Lya," the girl said as she took Lyanna's hand in both of hers. "The woman...Prince Oberyn said she...he said she was his paramour."

Lyanna heard Mellario inhale sharply even as she felt as though the world had just tilted.

She might have been Northern born and raised but she'd been in Dorne for years now and had learned much. In Dorne, unlike the rest of Westeros, it was common for someone, married or not, to take a lover, a paramour. Lyanna had never given it any real thought, it wasn't something that had ever been practiced in the North, and, despite Oberyn being a Dornish Prince, he had seemed to respect her enough that she had never thought to worry about such a thing. Now she felt like a complete idiot.

Lyanna said nothing for a moment, even as Mellario asked Mira if she was certain, barely hearing the girl reply that Oberyn had been very clear. It was strange. Despite the warmth of the day she felt cold. Numb. She drew a breath as Mellario looked at her, clearly picking up on her upset, reaching out to touch her knee and ask if she was alright. Looking at her good-sister she tried to nod but knew the motion had been jerky, sloppy, by the way Mellario frowned.

"Would...Would you mind watching Jon for a few minutes, Mel? I...I need to..."

Mellario nodded, understanding what Lyanna was asking.

"Of course, Lya."

Lyanna drew a deep breath, trying to fight the overwhelming sense of disbelief, and shame, as she stood and walked away, going in search of her husband.

Did it reflect poorly on her that Oberyn had taken a paramour? Did it say to others that she was so poor a wife that he had to turn to another woman? She didn't know enough of the custom to know any of the answers to her growing questions, question that kept spinning through her mind, slowly turning her emotions from confusion and shock to hurt and rage. She was not the guilty party here. She had done nothing wrong. And even if she had why had Oberyn not spoken to her, told her, perhaps if he had things would not have come to this. Her hands clenched at her sides and she felt the ice in her veins finally shatter, giving way to a fire that she had not felt since the day Doran had told her they could do nothing to avenge her father and brother.

Each step enflamed her rage. Strengthen it.

Stepping round a corner she was unprepared to see Oberyn leading a woman, raven haired and dark eyed, down the hallway. The woman was not the most beautiful she had ever seen but there was something about the woman that was stunning, even Lyanna could admit that, as angry as she was. 

She stilled almost immediately, like a hare scenting a fox, and before she could regain control of herself Oberyn's gaze found her. He smiled and the fire in her veins boiled. He smiled as though he had not just told his brother he had taken a paramour. As though he had not just all but told the world that he cared nothing for her, the mother of his firstborn son.

"Lya," Oberyn said as he stepped towards her. "I would like you to meet someone. This is Ellaria Sand."

Lyanna ground her teeth together to keep from screaming at him.

"Your paramour."

His smile fell at her words and she saw in his eyes that he was trying to work out how she could possibly know. It would have been amusing, charming even, if the situation had been different.

"Word travels quickly, _husband_ ," she practically sneered the words, looking again at Ellaria, about to say something nasty that she would likely regret later, only to find words failing her as she saw what she had missed moments earlier. Ellaria was cradling a babe, no more than a month or two old, and, even so young, there was no denying the child belonged to Oberyn for the babe looked so much like Nymeria and Obara that it caused a fresh wave of hurt to roll through her.

Looking back at Oberyn she just barely resisted the urge to strike him. His elder daughters she had accepted because they had come before their marriage, before their son, but this hurt more than if he had beaten her. She fought back the tears and squared her shoulders. She was a she-wolf and she would not let him see her weak. Not now and not ever.

"You could have mentioned, perhaps during one of your brief visits, that you were to be a father again," she said as calmly as she could, wondering all the while why the Gods would have given them three good years together only to do this.

Oberyn reached out to her. "Lya..."

"Do not," she snapped darkly, causing him to still. "Call me that."

He lifted his chin slightly.

"I do not expect you to understand," he said softly, calmly, though she saw the fire in his eyes. Had he truly expected her to just accept this? Did he think she would not be hurt or angry at his bringing home another woman? "You are of the North and..."

"Being Northern does not make me an ignorant fool, Oberyn!" 

And there went her attempt at remaining calm.

"If you were so unhappy with me...if I was not enough for you, you could have told me! You told me once that you would always speak to me about the important things! That I was your equal and not just...not just some pretty bobble to decorate your arm!" She glared at him. "You could have spoken to me...told me what...what was wrong with...us...instead you bring _her_ to _our_ home!"

Oberyn's gaze did not soften nor did the fire leave his dark eyes. He shook his head and sighed.

"I am sorry, Lya," he ignored her protested snarl at the use of a nickname she no longer felt he had the right to use. "I did not mean for...all of this. But I love her."

The fight suddenly went out of her as she once more felt as though ice had been pushed into her veins.

Three years together and never once had she heard him direct those three little words at her. Not even when, a year ago, she had finally been honest and told him that she loved him. He had smiled and kissed her and said _I know_. But this woman, this Ellaria, this was the woman he could admit he loved. Her fight and anger suddenly paled in comparison to the hurt that his words had caused.

She lifted her chin slightly, refusing to let him know just how much his words had stung, how deeply they had cut, and she met his gaze, which was now softer, head on with as much ice as she could muster.

"Well that's...that's just wonderful," she said coldly before she went to turn, needing to get away from him, from both of them, before she said or did something terrible. But before she could Oberyn caught hold of her arm, pulling her quickly to a stop.

"Wait, please, Lya..."

She reacted without any conscious thought.

One moment she'd been standing still and the next she was moving, her fist connecting with Oberyn's jaw.

The angle had been awkward and her knuckles ached immediately, but it was worth it to see him stumble back a step, hand falling from her arm even as he reached up with the other to cradle his jaw. His eyes were wide as he stared at her.

"Do not," she snarled as she stepped back, glaring at him despite the tears she felt dotting her lashes. "Touch me again. Ever!"

Without another word or backwards glance she turned and walked away, head held high and back straight. He might have all but cast her aside for another woman but she still had some Gods-be-damned dignity. He wanted his paramour, his whore? Well he could have the bitch. But he would never again touch her. Never. She would not be his second choice.

Walking, almost blindly, she soon found herself in an empty corridor and, without a thought, she stopped, leaning against one of the walls before she slid, with a ragged sob, to the floor where she quickly buried her face in her hands. The tears she fought back finally falling and she sobbed as she realized just how cruel the Gods were. To give her a man she loved but who did not love her in return. Was this how Robert had felt when she'd constantly spurned him?

She continued to cry until there were no more tears, until she felt sick and all she wanted was to leave.

Lifting her head she suddenly realized that that was just what she was going to do.

To the deepest of the Seven Hells with Oberyn.

If he did not care that she was his wife then why should she care that he was her husband?

In that moment her decision was made.

Standing, legs only shaking slightly, she steeled herself, reminding herself that she was the She-Wolf of Dorne, of Winterfell, and she-wolves bowed to no one.

She headed back to the pool where she had left Jon with Mellario, a plan forming in her mind as she walked and, by the time she reached her destination, she knew exactly what she was going to do.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

It was late, well passed the midnight hour, when Lyanna slipped, quiet as a shadow, from her chamber, her son in her arms. The stillness and darkness of the night provided plenty of cover for her as she made her way from her chamber, through the Water Gardens, to the stables. Once there she carefully set Jon down, letting him rest against a bale of hay as she quickly saddled Winter before strapping two bags she had packed and hidden in his stall earlier to the saddle.

She had thought, briefly, of taking one of the sand horses instead but knew if she took Winter then everyone would think she had ridden for Winterfell and that would give her enough of a head start that, by the time her true destination was discovered, it would be too late for anyone, even the swiftest of riders, to stop her.

Picking Jon back up she led Winter from the stables, not heading for the main gate but the lesser guarded gate that led down to beach and the ocean roads. Slipping out was easy, the guard having fallen asleep thanks to a tiny pit of essence of nightshade she'd spiked his wine with. Once she was clear of the walls she carefully climbed into the saddle, holding Jon securely with one arm while using the other to guide Winter with the reins.

The darkness of the night was broken by the full moon so navigating the winding road was easy enough and, as she rode, she thought of her destination.

Weeks earlier she had received a letter, now burned, from her dear friend Lady Edina of Starfall, inviting her to visit, reminding her that it had been nearly a year since they had last seen one another. It was a good enough excuse that the Daynes would not question her arrival and, since she had burned the letter before leaving, no one would think, for a while at least, to search for her at Starfall.

Reaching the main roads, which were smoother and thankfully easier to ride, she fought down the impulse to look back at the Water Gardens. Instead she looked at Jon, sleeping soundly against her, and she couldn't help but smile. As cruel as the Gods were at least they had given her something good in the form of her son. Still smiling she touched her heels to Winter's sides, urging him into a faster pace. It would take her roughly a week to reach Starfall and the quicker she reached it the better.


	31. Chapter 31

Lyanna reached Starfall five days after leaving the Water Gardens and, to her surprise, was met at the gates by Arden who was returning from a hunt.

Arden, clearly surprised by her unannounced and unescorted visit, had laughed and said he shouldn't have expected anything less from a she-wolf before leading the way into Starfall. He'd shown her, personally, to a room and assured her that she'd have some time to settle before Edina came to see her. Her friend waited an hour or so before coming to find her, bringing her own son, Edric, with her.

Edric and Jon were just about the same age with Edric being a few weeks older and, despite not seeing each other for over a year, Edric immediately recognized Jon and reached for him, calling him by name, the moment Edina set him on the bed with the dark haired boy.

Edina smiled as she sat next to Lyanna, hugging her like a sister, and Lyanna could help but smile in return.

"I've missed you," Edina said as she drew back, holding Lyanna's hands. "You must tell me everything that's happened to you and Jon since we last saw each other."

Lyanna laughed and began filling her friend in on everything, everything save what had caused her to all but flee from the Water Gardens, though she knew Edina suspected something was amiss, she could see it in the woman's eyes. Edina glanced at their sons, not surprised to find them curled up and napping, and then back to Lyanna, squeezing her hands lightly.

"Lya, love, not that I'm not thrilled to have you, because you know I am, but I...well...I find myself wondering why you did not send a raven to announce your visit. Or why you had no guards with you. Surely Oberyn would never have agreed..."

Edina stopped the moment she saw the flash of hurt and anger in Lyanna's storm cloud eyes.

"Ah," she said, expression becoming one of understanding. "I see. You did this to get some time away from your husband." She sighed but her expression did not change. "Well come now, tell me, what's the foolish man done?"

Lyanna chewed on the inside of her cheek as she debated if she should tell Edina what had happened.

Her friend, though dear to her as a sister, was Dornish and, likely, was more accustomed to the news that a man had taken a paramour when he already had a family. Perhaps Edina would merely tell her to accept it. It was entirely possible that Edina would think her a foolish child for fleeing her home because her husband had brought another woman and their child home. 

But, even with her doubts, she knew that Edina was her friend and, no matter what advice she gave, it would be because she cared for Lyanna and her wellbeing. So, with a deep breath, Lyanna explained, as calmly as she could, what had chased her from the Water Gardens and across the great expanse of Dorne. Edina listened quietly, her frown deepening with every word and, when Lyanna finished, sat silently for several long moments.

Lyanna, about to ask Edina what she should do, was shocked when her friend, normally so calm, all but growled.

"That bloody, half-witted arse of a man!"

Lyanna blinked but before she could even think of what to say to that Edina was pressing on.

"Arden always said Oberyn was promiscuous as a cat in heat but, Seven Hells, I never thought he would ever...you both seemed so happy when last we saw each other I thought...I thought things were so well between you both. Did he...Did he give any sort of indication that...that he was...that this was going to happen?"

Lyanna laughed, bitter and hollow, and shook her head, looking at her son, sleeping so peacefully and it helped to remind her that not everything in her life had fallen apart.

"Everything seemed fine," she said as she stamped down the feeling of betrayal that rose up at the mere thought of Oberyn. "He had started spending more and more time away from the Water Gardens but...well...that didn't seem so strange at first. He did the same when we first married and I thought...I thought the last few years had at least meant something to him. But he left this last time and...and brought _her_ home. And he had the gall to suggest that I couldn't possibly understand because I'm Northern! As though that has anything to do at all with...with anything at all!"

Edina quickly pulled her into a hug, rubbing a hand over her back and, for the first time in days, the weight of everything came, all at once more, crashing down over her and once the first sob passed her lips she found she couldn't stop them or the tears spilling down her face. She clung to Edina even as her friend hugged her and rubbed soothing circles over her back, all the while whispering to her to let it out, that it was alright to cry. It reminded her so much of Maege, or her mother, that she cried until there were no more tears, until she finally felt somewhat purged of some of the anger and pain. Oh there was still much of it coiling in her veins, a serpent ready to strike again, but it felt lighter now, easier to control.

"You'll stay," Edina said as they slowly drew apart. "As long as you choose. You and Jon are more than welcome in Starfall, Lya."

Lyanna nodded her thanks and looked, once more, at her son. She knew it wasn't right, denying him his father, but what sort of man would he become, growing with Oberyn as his example? She did not wish to see her son, her first son, grow to be just another promiscuous Dornish Prince. He deserved more than such a fate. Part of her wanted to take him North, to Winterfell, let him be raised in the halls of her ancestors. Where Ned could help her teach him duty and honour. But that, she feared, would make him just another stoic Northern and she no more wanted that fate for her son than she wanted him to be like his father.

So, she supposed, for the time being, they would remain in Starfall.

Perhaps in a few days time she would have more clarity on the situation and would know what to do.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Oberyn paced Doran's solar like an animal caught in a cage.

His wife was gone. Their son gone with her. And no one seemed to have any idea where she had gone.

He was waiting, had been waiting for days, for a reply from Winterfell, from Lord Eddard, hoping against hope that Lyanna had sent word to her brother, that that was where she planned to go. Doran had not shared his optimism, stating it too obvious a destination, made more obvious because Lyanna had taken her own, Northern mount instead of one of the sand horses. Oberyn didn't care what his brother thought. Where else would Lyanna go? She was angry and hurt. She would go to the familiar, to what was comforting, and surely that was Winterfell.

"You're going to wear a hole in my floor."

Oberyn paused, barely glancing at Doran, before he resumed pacing.

"Why would she just leave? Without a word to anyone? And why in the middle of the night?"

Doran sighed. "Because she knew if anyone knew what she'd planned they would have tried to stop her. Or told one of us."

Oberyn shot him a look. "She's acting like...like the child I thought she was when you had me marry her."

Doran leaned back in his chair and arched an eyebrow at his brother. "Or," he said calmly, knowing his brother was only lashing out because he was concerned for Lyanna and Jon. "She is acting as any woman would when her husband says he loves another woman."

Oberyn flinched slightly.

"This has nothing to do with..."

"If you truly believe Lyanna's leaving has nothing to do with your paramour and your new daughter than you are more foolish than I ever believed."

Oberyn shot him a look but continued to pace.

Doran sighed.

"You could not have truly thought our little she-wolf would accept this, brother."

"It is perfectly acceptable for..."

"For a Dornishman, but oh so often you forget Lyanna _is not_ Dornish. That, though she adjusted so well to our culture and ways of life, she is of the North and in the North a married man _does not_ bring his whore home and expect his wife to accept it."

Oberyn snarled.

"Ellaria is not a..."

"Our ancestors may have given it a fancy title, Oberyn," Doran snapped, gaze narrowing dangerously, causing Oberyn to immediately fall silent. "But there is no difference. No matter how loved and cherished a paramour may be, they are still, by definition of the word, a whore."

Oberyn paused and, though Doran knew he was trying to remain calm, those dark eyes flashed with rage. "Lyanna knew I was not a man who would change my ways simply because I had married."

"And yet you've been discreet these last few years, more so than you ever were," Doran countered. "She could easily ignore what she could not see. Bringing Ellaria to the Water Gardens was not discreet. Nor, I believe, was it wise."

Oberyn drew a deep breath and then sighed.

"I love her."

Doran stared at him in silence, studying him, searching for Gods knew what, before he shook his head. "And Lyanna, brother? Do you feel nothing for her? Even after all this time?"

Oberyn's gaze darkened and narrowed. "Do not, _ever_ , suggest I care nothing for her! She will always hold a place in my heart! I may be in love with Ellaria but that _does not_ mean I cannot love my wife as well!"

A small, barely there smile graced Doran's face.

"So passionate for a woman who does not hold your heart completely."

Oberyn blinked and quickly realized what had just happened.

Doran had gotten him, for the first time, to admit, aloud, that he loved Lyanna.

"You..."

"Pardon, my Princes," a servant said, appearing in the doorway, and Oberyn shot the boy a sour look. "But a raven just arrived."

Doran waved the boy to him, taking the letter before dismissing him. He read the letter quickly before holding it out to his brother. "It's from Eddard."

Oberyn snatched the letter and read through it, hoping that his good-brother had news concern Lyanna, hoping that his assumptions were correct and that she was indeed heading for Winterfell. Eddard's words were less than reassuring. "He's not heard from her," he growled, crumpling the letter. "Or so he says."

"You doubt him?"

"Would you betray Elia if she had run from Rhaegar as Lyanna has run from me?" Oberyn shook his head and tossed the balled up paper onto the desk. "The only sure way to know is to wait for word from the riders."

"Are you certain you can think of no other place Lyanna would go?"

Oberyn's gaze narrowed once more.

"If I could do you think I would still be here?"

"Given your confession to be in love with your paramour and not your wife I will admit I wonder."

Oberyn slammed his fist down on Doran's desk.

"If I had any sort of inkling of where she would run I would have followed the moment I realized she and my son were gone!"

"Then perhaps you should start thinking harder."

Mellario's voice, clipped and sharp, drew the dark gazes of both Martell men but only Doran saw the tension and worry in his wife's face. Oberyn only saw the anger and distaste, neither of which Mellario had bothered hiding since the moment she'd learned her good-sister had fled their home. Oberyn scowled at her as she crossed the room.

"What in the Seven Hells is that..."

"Use your brain, you dull oaf," Mellario snapped at him, her eyes flashing with rage. "And go speak to Obara before she completely destroys the training yard."

Oberyn glared at his good-sister but, rather than pick a fight, he turned and stormed from the room, making certain to slam the door behind him.

"I do not think it wise to antagonize him, darling."

Mellario huffed and looked at her husband. "He has been lucky. Lyanna was more hurt than angered by his actions. If it had been the reverse I'm willing to wager that he would permanently limp."

"Perhaps that would have been better than her fleeing to Gods know where."

Mellario rolled her eyes.

"And now you're being as much an oaf as your brother."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "And that means, my love?"

Mellario reached out, cupping Doran's chin and meeting his gaze. "Where, in all of Dorne, has Lya spent more time than the Water Gardens? Where does she have friends who call her sister besides here? Who would welcome her without questioning her sudden arrival or absence of guards? Can you think of no place, husband? Hmm?"

It dawned then, the realization that should have come days earlier, and Doran started to rise. "Oberyn must be..."

He was surprised when Mellario pushed him back down into his chair.

"You will give Lyanna time to come to accept what has happened before telling Oberyn anything, my love."

"Mellario..."

She shook her head. "Send a raven, inquire to her state of being and, should response bare nothing ill, you will hold your silence until Lyanna decides to tell her...straying husband anything."

Doran sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "You make things sound so simple, Mel."

"Nothing in life is ever simple, my love." She leaned down and kissed his lips softly. "But if it were than life would not be worth living. So give Lya time to herself and tell Oberyn nothing for now."

Though it bothered him to keep such a thing from Oberyn part of him, the elder brother in him that had always just wanted to smack Oberyn and demand better of him, saw what Mellario was doing and he finally nodded. "Very well," he said as he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "I will hold my silence. For now."

Mellario smiled and nodded her thanks, lifting their hands to kiss his fingertips. Convincing him to give Lyanna time away was the least she could do for the woman she called sister.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to hold off with posting the re-writes until after I finished my Arrow fic "Still Worth Fighting For" but since I'm super close to being finished with that anyways I figured I'd take and start posting the re-writes since there are technically ten chapters to post for this story and it's going to take a bit of time to space out the postings so that it's not all throw at you all at once.

Oberyn walked slowly into the training yard, uncertain what he would find, but he could hear the sound of steel striking steel and the cursing in Rhoynish and knew it would not be good.

Drawing a deep breath, reminding himself that, though Obara was the eldest of his daughters, and by far the fiercest, she was still a girl, a child, even if she was tall and strong for her age, and that he could calm her anger. He had done so in the past. This would be no different.

He found Obara sparing with Nymeria.

Not an uncommon thing.

What was uncommon was that Obara was not wielding her spear but a sword.

He could not remember a time when Obara had willingly chosen any weapon but the spear.

Seeing her now, wielding a sword with just as much graceful, skill as she did the spear, he was both impressed and worried. That she had chosen to spar with a sword, Lyanna's weapon of choice, reminded him that she, like her sisters, was not happy that Lyanna had left. Was even less happy that Lyanna had left because of him and his actions. He watched he for a moment, watching as, over and over, she drove Nymeria back, the curses falling from his eldest's child's lips was crass enough that even the most seasoned sailor would have blushed.

"Obara."

His voice sounded so very loud and he watched as Obara stilled, Nymeria looking at him over her sister's shoulder, the scowl evident of her thoughts concerning him, before that dark gaze swung to Obara, softly saying something to her that Oberyn didn't catch but as she stepped away, Obara turned and Oberyn saw that Mellario had been right to suggest Obara's mood was foul. He had not seen such a dark look on her face before.

She did not speak as she looked at him, but he saw her fingers flex around the hilt of the sword, saw the tension coiling through her and the fire in her eyes.

"I think you need a stronger sparing partner than your sister," he said as he picked up a spear, no doubt the one Obara had abandoned earlier in favour of the sword.

She still said nothing, merely watched him with a narrowed gaze.

He quickly discovered, as he struck and parried, that she had grown just as skilled with a sword as she was with the spear. She met him, head on, proving that she had earned her title of Sand Snake. Quick, sure and lethal. But he saw the anger in her eyes. Saw, with every blow, that that anger was building to the point that she would soon make a mistake. She was letting her anger guide her actions, letting it draw her in too close to him and, as she lashed out with the blade of her sword, she stepped too close and he countered by using the shaft of his spear to disarm her and then, in a move that was more aged instinct, he struck her in the face, sending her reeling back several steps.

Besides a grunt she gave no outward sign of pain, even as she straighten, rubbing her chin where the spear shaft had hit and, though he felt terrible for striking her, he couldn't help but think it might just help him get her to speak.

"You're angry," he said as he lowered the spear, pretending not to see how, just off to one side, Tyene and Sarella were glaring daggers at him. "You all are. But that is no reason to behave in such a childish manner."

He heard Nymeria huff but it was Obara he kept his gaze fixed on. His eldest drew a breath, hands clenched into fists at her sides, but still she said nothing.

"It's to be the silent treatment, is it?" Oberyn shook his head. "You think that will gain you anything? You think ignoring me, pretending I am not here, will do any good? Do you think it will change anything? You think your silence, your angry looks, will somehow bring Lya back?"

That, it seemed, was enough to get Obara to break her silence.

"And whose fault is it that she left in the first place?!"

Obara took a slight step forward.

"Who's to blame for Mother feeling that her only choice was to leave? Who was stupid enough to think that she wouldn't be hurt or angered by something as damned stupid as bringing home a whore and expecting them to share said home?!"

Oberyn's gaze narrowed. "Do not refer to Ellaria as..."

"You wonder why Mother left? You wonder why she took Jon and fled from you? From her family?" Obara took another step forward. "I'll tell you why _Father_ ," she spat the word father as though it were something foul. "It's because you couldn't keep you Gods be damned cock out of yet another whore's cunt and then had the nerve to bring the whore home to live with you!"

He reacted without true conscious thought but the moment the back of his hand connected with Obara's check.

Silence, tense and heavy, filled the training yard.

Oberyn knew he shouldn't have struck his daughter, knew it would only cause a greater rift to form between them, but he couldn't stand by and hear her insult Ellaria when she knew nothing of the truth. He watched as she slowly looked at him again, the mark on his cheek stark against her smooth, tanned skin and her eyes, still flaring with rage, changed, an emotion flickering through them that he couldn't name.

"I will say this only once," he all but growled, gaze slipping from Obara to each of his other girls, who were all tense and seeming to be torn between defending their sister or letting Obara handle the situation herself. "So listen well. You will not disrespect Ellaria. Ever." He slowly looked back to Obara, who hadn't moved, who was still looking at him with that unreadable expression. "She is the mother of your sister, Elia, she is the woman I love and, if nothing else, you will show her respect."

"Or what?"

Obara's voice was quiet but not soft. It had a hardened edge and, in that moment, it was easy to forget that she wasn't actually Lyanna's daughter. The way she was looking at him reminded Oberyn so very much of his wife that it hurt.

"Or I will remind you how to be respectful, right here, with sword and spear."

Obara lifted her chin, ever so slightly, and Oberyn knew what was coming before his eldest spoke the words.

"I'd rather the Gods struck me dead than show respect to the _whore_ you're trying to replace Mother with."

Oberyn, meaning to make good on his word from only moments early, went to swing his spear, thinking to merely knock Obara off her feet but she clearly anticipated the move for she lightly dodged and, before he could recover, her fist collided with the side of his face. He staggered, stunned by the blow, by the ferocity of it, and was not prepared for the second strike or the third, forth or fifth. He was surprised when the attack suddenly ceased and, once he regained his balance, he looked to find Obara had been muscled back, not by any of her sisters, but by Areo, who was snapping that, angry or not, she should have more restraint. That Lyanna would be ashamed of her.

That, it seemed, was enough to have the fight, and some of the rage, fading from Obara's face and she ceased her struggle to get around Areo so she could attack her father again. She was panting, glaring like an enraged serpent, but when Nymeria touched her arm, trying to calm her, she hissed almost like an angry cat before turning on her heel and storming away. Nymeria cast Oberyn a cold glare before following her sister, Tyene and Sarella close behind.

Rubbing a hand over his face, gently probing the spots Obara's fist had struck with his fingertips, Oberyn hissed at the sharp bite of pain, not surprised when his fingers came away with blood.

"You should not have provoked her."

He shot Areo a scowl. "She..."

"She's been insulting your lover for days," Areo shook his head. "And that's not likely to change just because you order to stop. She's angry and scared."

"That does not excuse..."

"No." Areo cut him off quickly, crossing his arms over his chest. "But if you understand than perhaps you would better know how to approach Obara. And the others. Just because they are quieter does not mean your little snakes are not just as angry as Obara."

Oberyn sighed through his nose.

"I am aware of that."

"Then count your blessings that the Gods chose to let only Obara lash out. I am skilled, my Prince, but even I am not skilled enough to stop four serpentine girls from mauling one skinny, oaf of a Dornishman." Areo nodded towards his head. "Don't forget to tend to that."

Oberyn watched the man walk away and looked towards the white, fluffy clouds floating through the sky overhead. How was it that one decision, made with his heart, would have caused all this chaos?

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

It was early when Lyanna woke, the sun not yet over the distant horizon but its glow turning the sky from black to a deep indigo, slowly chasing the stars from the sky, and, quiet as a shadow, slipped from her room and through the halls. She'd been in Starfall nearly a week and could easily navigate its corridors now. She made her out to the large, open yard that doubled as a garden, and, pace slow, she followed a path to a quiet, somewhat hidden corner of the garden. A single, solitary statue stood among a collection of rose bushes and Lyanna smiled sadly as she approached it.

The statue, made of the palest marble, depicted a woman holding an infant.

The woman, though beautifully carved, looked, to Lyanna at least, full of sorrow.

Standing in front of the statue she reached up to brush away a few fallen leaves and pulled a crawling vine from around the feet. She then laid a necklace made of seashells in the statue's hand, an offering to the long dead woman it was meant to represent. A woman who, in life, had been sweet and kind and more beautiful than any other. It broke Lyanna's heart to know that this, this cold, pale stone, was all that was left of Ashara Dayne and the child she had lost.

Lyanna's gaze dipped to the carven babe in the statue's arms.

The daughter that had never had the chance to live.

The final loss that had pushed Ashara beyond her breaking point.

Lyanna had cried for days when, shortly after the rebellion, after Elia had left for Essos, the letter had come from Arden with the news that Ashara had chosen to end her own life when her daughter, Brandon's daughter, had been stillborn. Looking at the babe's carven face she tried not to imagine what the little girl would have been like and yet the image came to mind easily. A beautiful girl with Ashara's grace and thick dark hair but Brandon's deep grey eyes and wildness. A girl who would have been loved and cherished by her Dornish and Northern families no matter that she had been a bastard.

She ran her finger lightly over the stone babe's cheek and wished, not for the first time, that the Gods had been kinder.

"Her name was Braeden."

Lyanna turned at the rich voice and found Arden standing just a few feet down the path.

"Arden."

He walked closer, looking at the statue that stood as memorial of his sister, before his gaze swung to her. "Ashara never named her child," he said, as though sensing Lyanna's unspoken question. "Her grief was too consuming, I suppose. But I...I couldn't stand the thought of her laying to rest without a name to be known by. So I gave her a name. Our niece deserved that at least."

Lyanna felt tears prickle her eyes but quickly blinked them away. "It's a beautiful name, Arden."

A small, sad, smile graced his face and he quickly turned away from the statue, focusing completely on her instead of the reminder of a lost sister.

"Would you walk with me, Princess?"

Lyanna chuckled at the use of a title she still, after all these years, had not become accustomed to but she took his arm when he offered it, letting him lead her back down the path through the garden.

"I missed you during my last visit," she said as she looked at him. "You were in High Hermitage I believe."

He nodded.

"Getting drunker than I have in years."

That surprised her and it must have shown on her face because he chuckled lightly.

"I was, as my wife calls it, lost in my doldrums. Thought I could chase it away with drink. If not for my cousins I might have stumbled drunkenly off a cliff."

"People...we all deal with things differently, Arden."

"Like you running from Oberyn?"

Lyanna blinked and looked at him. "How did..."

"Edina is quite...vocal...when angry." Something must have shown on her face because he quickly added, "Though she means well."

Lyanna chuckled sourly and then sighed. "I just...I don't know what to do now," she admitted as they neared the doorway leading back into the keep. "I didn't really think further than getting away from the Water Gardens, away from..."

She bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting, again, to spout off her anger towards her husband. Thankfully Arden seemed to sense, even understand, her reluctance to speak ill of a man he considered a dear friend because he reached up to rest his hand over hers where it lay in the crook of his arm, squeezing lightly, reassuringly.

"You haven't done anything wrong, Princess," he said and she looked up at his face, seeing the sincerity there. "Better that you take all the time you need rather than do something rash."

"You mean like punch my snake of a husband in the jaw?"

Arden stared at her for a moment before he began laughing.

"Oh, oh what I wouldn't give to have witnessed that."

Lyanna smiled and shook her head. "Wasn't very mature of me."

Arden snorted.

"Mature? I'd say he was lucky. Prince Doran once said there was good reason you held the title of She-Wolf."

That had Lyanna's smile returning, though only slightly, it was nice to know that she wasn't alone in thinking Oberyn was a complete oaf. Drawing a deep breath she looked at Arden, still smiling slightly. "As much as I would love to continue walking with you, Arden, I'm afraid I should return to my room before Jon wakes. He still finds it strange waking up here I think."

Arden nodded his understanding.

"Perhaps you and your little lad would do me the honour of joining my wife and I for breakfast?"

Lyanna's smile widened even as she nodded. "I think we can manage that."

Arden chuckled. "I'll see you both in a few hours then."

She nodded again before she turned and headed back into the keep, reaching her room quickly and, as she slipped back inside, she found Jon was still sleeping soundly. Crossing the room she quietly joined her little pup, laying next to him even as she carefully pulled him into her arms, kissing his curls as she looked down at his peaceful face. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he started asking about his sisters, about his father, and she wasn't certain what she would do when that time came but, for now she supposed, she would take each moment as it came.


	33. Chapter 33

Weeks quickly passed and Lyanna found herself in no hurry to leave Starfall.

It was peaceful and welcoming and not clouded by constant reminders of her snake of a husband and his choices that had all but torn her world, her family, apart.

Most of her days were spent with Edina, watching their sons play, and just enjoying herself, letting herself forget about the mess that was waiting for her back at the Water Gardens. But she soon found herself falling into old habits. Visiting the training yard, watching as the young squires and knights trained, watching as Arden did his best to instruct them. It didn't take long before Arden was placing a sword in her hand and requesting a true sparing partner.

"The lads are fine enough," he'd said with a small grin. "But you've trained beside the likes of the Viper and Areo. You might actually give me a real challenge."

It was all he'd needed to say.

After that if she was not spending time with Edina, in the gardens or some warm room in the castle, she spent it with Arden, sparing or trying to show those fresh faced boys a thing or two. It reminded her of spending her days with Brandon. She enjoyed spending time with Arden. He didn't treat her any different now than he had before. He'd even, after a bit of convincing, stopped referring to her as _Princess_ all of the time. And she was not the only one who enjoyed Arden's company.

Jon took to the Lord of Starfall like a fish to water.

It quickly became a common sight to see Arden strolling through a hallway or garden or even the training yard with Jon perched upon one shoulder and Edric on the other, the normally quiet little Prince laughing with Edric as Arden grinned brightly. Arden had even taken and fashioned a little wooden sword for Jon and was showing him how to use it properly. It reminded her of what her father had done for her when she'd been little older than Jon. 

It also twisted something in her heart because, even as angry as she still was with her husband, it was something that Oberyn should have done. He had taught Obara the spear. Nymeria the knife. Even Tyene had begun to warm to the idea of her father training her in some fashion, though Lyanna doubted it would be with any obvious weapon. And she'd just always had this image in her mind of Oberyn teaching their son how to properly wield a weapon.

But she pushed the nagging guilt aside in favour of helping Arden teach her son.

Jon was a natural and progressed quickly with his little sword, showing off for Edric who cheered and applauded happily every time.

"He's a quick learner," Edina said one afternoon as they together sat in the shade in the courtyard, watching as Jon, tiny though he was, showed Edric a move with his sword that Arden had shown him only hours ago. "Must get that from his mother."

Lyanna couldn't help but laugh and shake her head.

"I," she said as she pushed her braid back over her shoulder. "Was a particularly stubborn child. My father once compared me to a mule."

Edina threw her head back and laughed.

It was a rich, warm laugh that brought a smile to Lyanna's face even as Jon and Edric turned to see what was happening. It took barely a heartbeat for the boys to decide to rush over, both of them all but throwing themselves at their mothers. Jon giggled as Edric laughed, the elder boy egging his friend on. Lyanna giggled as she heard approaching footsteps, looking up she saw Arden and, though normally his presence was a welcomed thing, the expression on his face told her that he came bearing news she would likely not wish to hear.

"Edina," Arden said once he had reached them, causing his wife to look at him, still hugging Edric close. "Why don't you take the boys to the stable, hmm? I need to speak with our Princess."

Edina exchanged a quick glance with Lyanna, waiting for her to nod before she stood, herding the two energetic boys away. Arden waited until he was certain the boys were out of earshot before he looked at Lyanna. That grim expression still fixed to his features.

"I received a raven today," he said as he slowly sat next to Lyanna.. "From the Water Gardens."

Lyanna sighed. Of course Doran would keep sending letters. Her good-brother, unlike her husband, actually cared.

"You've received letters from Doran before. How was this any different?"

"Because the letter did not come from Doran."

Lyanna blinked, confused, as Arden handed the rolled up parchment to her.

Carefully she unrolled the parchment, uncertain what she would find, but what the letter contained was hardly what she would have ever imagined.

_Arden, by now you have received numerous letters from my brother and each time you replied with the same answer. That you have not seen nor heard from my lady wife. Doran seems convinced of your honesty but I, much to my shame, cannot seem to find the same faith he has._

_So I beseech you, Arden, my most trusted friend, to tell me no falsehoods, to give me truth as I would give it to you. Lyanna and Jon have been gone for near two months and I cannot cease my worry over them. Please, my friend, if you have any knowledge, any at all, of the whereabouts of my wife and son I beg you, please tell me so that I might at the very least be able to lay my worry to rest by knowing that they are at safe and well._

_Oberyn_

Lyanna reread the letter, twice, before she looked at Arden, understanding now why he appeared so grim. "Arden..."

"I understand your position in all of this," Arden said softly, cutting her off before she could even figure out what it was that she meant to say. "And while I support you, Lyanna, I...I cannot lie to Oberyn. Not after that letter."

"This," Lyanna repeated, waving the letter. "Is merely a ploy. A way for him to learn, for Doran most like, where I am so that Doran can try and convince me to return to the Water Gardens."

"I do not think Oberyn would do..."

"And I never thought my husband would bring another woman into my home and tell me that he loved her!"

Lyanna knew it was waspish of her to snap at Arden that way, knew it wasn't right or fair, her friend had sheltered her, given her time away from Oberyn, from what his actions had done. He deserved her thanks not her venom. She looked quickly away from him, hand tightening around the letter, crumpling it, and she drew a long, slow, deep breath.

"I...I'm sorry, Arden," she said after a moment of silence, finally looking at him again. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. This...You've been so kind about all of this and I...the last thing I want is for this cause trouble for you and your family."

"Lyanna..."

"Write to Oberyn," she said as she looked away. "Tell him...Tell him whatever you think is best."

"You are my Princess," Arden said as he lightly touched her shoulder. "Just as he is my Prince. No matter the choice I make I feel as though I am betraying one of you."

Lyanna looked at him again and shook her head, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear. "Then as your Princess I am telling you to follow your heart in this matter."

Arden studied her for a moment, clearly weighing her words, before he nodded and stood. She smiled, sadly, as he bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry, Lyanna," he said softly, voice barely more than a whisper, before he walked away.

Lyanna sat there for a while, the letter from Oberyn crumpled in her grasp and, as she looked down at the tattered parchment, she made a soft, angry sound, like a growling wolf, and tore the letter into tiny pieces.


	34. Chapter 34

It was barely four days later that Lyanna was awoken by a loud commotion outside her door. Blinking sleepily, trying to fully rouse herself, she barely made out the shouting but was aware enough to recognize Edina's voice.

"I wouldn't care if you were the King of all bloody Westeros! You will not barge into my home like some crazed bull and think to...now you wait just a bloody damned moment! You are not waking her like this! Arden! Arden, stop that bloody oaf before he..."

The door to her chamber crashed open and Lyanna, reacting on instinct, grabbed the dagger she kept tucked beneath her pillow, moving to put herself between the door and Jon, who shot upright on the bed the moment it had slammed open, eyes wide but dazed with sleep and a hint of fear. She was prepared for anything. An attacker. A guard sent by Doran or Oberyn to fetch her back to the Water Gardens. What she saw made part of her curse the Gods, Old and New, that she hadn't had the good sense to bar the door before going to bed.

Standing there in the doorway, completely ignoring Edina's incensed shouts, looking as though he had not slept in days, was none other than Oberyn.

Blinking, half convinced she was seeing things, Lyanna watched as Oberyn shut the door, effectively silencing Edina who had been snarling at his back, and she was unprepared for Jon, who had caught sight of his father, to squeal a delighted _"PAPA!"_ and then scramble over her in order to launch himself from the bed and into Oberyn's arms. Oberyn, though appearing exhausted, easily caught Jon, swinging their son up into his arms and cradling him close. Jon's arms went about his father's neck and Lyanna could hear her precious pup talking a mile a minute.

"Papa! Papa, I missed you! Did you miss me? Edric's papa gave me a sword, Papa. Not like Mama or Nym's sword. It's made of wood. I can show you."

Oberyn smiled as he pressed kisses into Jon's dark curls, a smile gracing his weary face. "Of course I missed you, my sweet boy," he said, voice raspy though from what Lyanna couldn't say. "And...And perhaps you can show me your sword later, hmm? It is still too early for that and Papa...Papa is very tired."

Jon nodded all while looking around at Lyanna, who quickly tucked her dagger away, not wanting him to see it. "Mama! Mama! Papa's here! See Mama?"

Lyanna tried to smile, tried to look happy, for her son's sake, but inside she was a mess. Inside part of her was screaming in fury and hurt. "I see, pup," she said as she rose from the bed, thankful she'd chosen light trousers and a tunic instead of her typical nightdress. Oberyn gave her a look, unreadable, but she knew he would want to speak, to try and explain himself, but she didn't want to hear it. Not now. Not when she was torn between fury and pain and wanting to strike him. She would show restraint in front of their son.

"I think Papa needs some sleep, pup," she said, looking at Jon and finally managing a soft smile for her precious pup even as he yawned, making her chuckle lightly. "And so do you. To bed with you both."

Jon nodded, snuggling close to his father, head resting against Oberyn's shoulder even as Oberyn gave her a look that clearly said her words had not been what he'd expected.

She went to sweep by Oberyn but he caught hold of her arm, pulling her to stop and, when she looked at him, her gaze was cold as ice.

"Lya," his voice was soft and it should have been touching that he was here, that he was trying, but all she could think about was him standing before her with his paramour, professing to love another woman, and her hands curled into fists at her sides. "Lya, please, we need to talk."

She steeled herself against the sweet pleading of his voice. "You look ready to fall over," she said even as Jon, still held securely in his father's arms, looked from her to his father and back, not understanding what was going on, only sensing that she was unhappy. "Sleep. We can... _talk_...later."

"Lya."

She shook her head and pulled her arm free of his grasp even as she stepped by him, yanking the door open, stepping into the corridor. He said her name again but she ignored him as she closed the door behind her. Perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary but she pretended not to notice. Edina, standing a few feet down the corridor with Arden, started towards her but Lyanna shook her head, holding up a hand to stop her friend, silently telling her that she needed some time to herself, waiting for Edina to nod in understanding before she turned and all but ran down the corridor.

She had no true destination but her feet carried her through the castle and out to the gardens and, before she knew it, she was standing before the memorial for Ashara and Braeden.

She looked at the beautifully carven face of a woman who, if fate and the Gods had been kinder, might have been her good-sister. Ashara had loved Brandon. Had loved him deeply. Just as Brandon had loved her. But duty and honour had stilled Brandon's tongue when their father had betrothed him to Catelyn Tully. Brandon had confided in Lyanna, shortly after her own betrothal to Robert Baratheon had been announced, that he understood, better than most, her unhappiness at not being able to marry whom she desired. Perhaps in whatever afterlife awaited them Brandon and Ashara had been reunited and allowed to be together with their precious daughter.

She had, at one time, thought to find that sort of love with Oberyn.

Had thought time would bring them the sort of love she had seen between her own parents.

Funnily enough time had brought her to love Oberyn, to cherish him, but, now that she took the time to actually think about it perhaps it wasn't enough for her husband. Her love, her devotion, seemed to mean nothing to him. Perhaps the Gods did not wish her to ever have the same sort of love she'd seen between her parents. Not even the same sort of love that Brandon and Ashara had shared.

She knew then that this was what Brandon had felt.

This agony of loving someone and knowing she would never truly have them.

Not all of them and not the way she wanted.

She had always thought herself so very strong but now she saw she was no stronger than Brandon had been.

In love with someone who would never truly be hers.

Tears slid silently down her face as she continued to look at the carven figures.

"Lyanna."

Oberyn's voice had her shoulders tensing and she hurried to wipe away the tears, refusing to let him see her cry, before she slowly turned, finding her husband standing a few feet down the path, watching her with those impossible dark eyes. 

"Oberyn." 

She wasn't certain what to say to him. Part of her was still so very angry with him. Not for loving someone else, no she was angry for bringing another woman home and thinking she would merely stand by and accept it. Perhaps things would have been different if he had spoken to her first. If he had taken just a few minutes to explain before bringing Ellaria to the Water Gardens maybe then things wouldn't have become so tense and angry.

But the Gods had dealt this hand and this was the hand they had to play.

So, steeling her nerves, getting as tight a hold on her rage as she could, she readied herself for what, she suspected, was going to be quite the fight.

"Lyanna," Oberyn said as took a small step forward. "You...You have no idea how glad I am to know you and Jon are safe. That you have been safe this entire time."

Part of her wanted to call him a liar but she remembered his letter. Remembered how he'd beseeched word, even if was only of her safety, and she drew a deep breath as she tried to work out what to say to that but before she could he was speaking again. Surprising her with his words.

"I know my actions hurt you," he said as he stepped closer, slowly, warily, like one might approach a frightened or wild animal. "And I will be eternally sorry for that. I never...I never wanted to hurt you, Lya."

She closed her eyes for a moment.

The last time Oberyn had called her by that name she had punched him in the face.

Opening her eyes again, anger and hurt still tightly controlled, she gave him a calm look.

"Did it ever occur to you to just _talk_ to me. Before you brought her home? Before you announced to your brother that you had taken a paramour? Before you told me you _loved her_?"

She could tell from his expression that the answer to was no. She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face.

"I wish, more than you never bringing home another woman, I wish you had just talked to me."

Oberyn gave a slow nod. "I know," he said, looking as though he wanted to reach out and touch her, take her in his arms but he didn't, clearly uncertain how such actions would be received. "I should have told you. I just...I thought...in truth I thought you would not be as hurt by it as you were. I thought..."

"You thought because I accepted the girls that I would accept Ellaria."

He nodded.

"Ellaria told me it was foolish. She told me, when she knew she was expecting Elia, that I should speak with you. To not trust to fate. I should have listened."

Lyanna opened her mouth, about to question that, to question why he hadn't listened or seen wisdom in Ellaria's words but what came out was "You named the baby Elia?"

That caused a small, sweet smile to grace Oberyn's face as he nodded. "I thought it a fitting name."

"Elia would be touched."

"Elia," Oberyn chuckled lightly. "Would have gutted me with my own spear for the hurt I caused you."

Lyanna nodded with a soft laugh of her own. "Yes, yes she would."

Oberyn finally managed to reach out, cupping Lyanna's cheek, thumb sweeping lightly over the soft skin. "I wish I could take away all your pain," he said softly. "I wish I...I wish I could be the man you deserve. The man whose heart would only beat for you. I wish...I wish I could be the man you could have truly loved."

Lyanna stared up at him for a moment, seeing love in his eyes but not the sort of love she had hoped for.

"And what if I already love you? What if I've been in love with you for a long time? Where does...Where does any of this leave me?"

Oberyn stared at her for a moment and she saw shock in those midnight eyes. Was it really that hard for him to believe that she loved him? That she'd been in love with him for some time?

"Lya," his voice was rough and, though she couldn't determine the emotion lacing his voice, she knew she wasn't ready to deal with any of it. Not when she felt like her heart was being torn about by tiny shards of glass. Shaking her head she stepped around him, thinking to head back inside, to go curl up in her chamber with Jon and try to pretend none of this was happening.

She wasn't surprised when Oberyn grabbed her arm. "Lyanna..."

She twisted free of his grasp without a word and all but ran. Not once looking back.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Oberyn stood there watching his wife run from him. 

Again.

She had just told him that she was in love with him. That she had been for some time. Any other man would have been thrilled by her declaration. He should have been thrilled. His wife loved him. What more could a man ask for from his wife? He loved Lyanna, yes, but he was not _in love_ with her. Now, knowing just how deeply his actions must have hurt her, he felt lower than he had when he realized his actions had caused her to flee their home.

Footsteps behind him caught his attention but he continued to stare at where Lyanna had been moments before.

"Oberyn."

He turned at the sound of Arden's voice, the man having come down the other pathway, and he was about to speak, to ask his friend for advice, only to let out a grunt as his oldest and dearest friend, a man he considered a brother, punched him in the face. He felt blood trickle from his nose and a haze of anger settled over him. He moved before he thought, thinking only of driving his fist into Arden's face but Arden proved that he was a warrior regardless of his title.

Arden caught his arm, easily spinning him and driving him into the ground before the statue of Ashara and her child, pinning him there even as he leaned in to speak quietly, calmly, in his ear. "Are you done?"

"You struck first!"

"Aye." Arden's grip was as strong as stone. "I merely did what your brother should have done."

"Arden..."

"You have all but whored yourself to any woman or man who would have you," Arden sounded calm, but his hands tightened on Oberyn's arm and shoulder, a sign of his anger that Oberyn remembered well from their youth. "You brought another woman home without thought or care how it would affect Lyanna and, to all amazement, she has not once said she wanted your paramour gone from your home. Not. Once.

"Your wife _loves_ you, you fool. A blind man could see it and you spat in the face of her and her love."

Oberyn glared at him, eyes black as a starless sky. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know the pain I see in her eyes when your name is mentioned. I know you caused hurt, possibly irreparable hurt, with you fucking stupidity and inability to keep your cock in your trousers!"

Oberyn spat an insult in Rhoynish that had Arden's gaze narrowing.

"You need to think of what is best for Lyanna now, Oberyn."

"This from the man who has been hiding my wife for weeks! Who has been lying to me, to our Prince, for weeks!"

Arden sighed and released Oberyn, quickly standing and stepping back a few paces, watching as Oberyn stood, looking ever the viper ready to strike. "I did what I thought was best for Lyanna," the Lord of Starfall said as he shook his head. "She needed time. Time to come to terms with what you have done."

"You had no right to..."

"No right to do what, Oberyn?" Now Arden's voice raised and he sounded as angry as Oberyn. "To protect my Princess? To lend aid to the woman who is aunt to the niece I had to bury? The woman who I look on as a sister? What had I no right to do, Oberyn?"

Oberyn said nothing, merely glared at his so-called friend, before spitting another Rhoynish curse before storming passed the man. 

He needed to speak to his wife.


	35. Chapter 35

Oberyn found Lyanna in her chamber, curled up on her bed, their son wrapped up in her arms. She looked up as he entered, watching as he quietly shut the door, seeing the anger that still lingered in his gaze and her own narrowed in warning. She would not fight with him. Not here. Not in front of Jon who, sleeping or not, did not deserve to see and hear it. Drawing a deep breath he slowly sat on the end of the bed, aware that she was watching him carefully.

"Lya," he said softly, not wanting to risk waking Jon. "We need to talk. To...To clear the air."

Lyanna's expression did not change.

"Why is your nose bloodied?"

His lips twitched at the tone of her voice. There was the woman he knew. There was his fierce and wild wife.

"It would seem you've gained a brother in the Lord of Starfall."

Still her expression did not change. "I never asked him to do that."

Oberyn nodded. He had never thought she had. 

"Lyanna..."

"I know you want to try and smooth things over," she continued as though she had not heard him speak. "That you want to make things as right as you can but...but I don't know how to move passed hearing you...hearing you telling me that you are in love with another woman. A woman you brought into our home like it would not upset things."

Oberyn drew a deep breath as he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to keep tight control of his emotions, not wanting to say anything that would deepen the rift between them. He was trying to mend the hurts he had created. Not forge new ones. Drawing another deep breath he gave a slow nod.

"I understand."

Lyanna studied him for a moment. The stiff way he sat, the fire in his tired eyes, and she shook her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes keen as a wolf.

"Do you? Truly?"

"Yes...I..." Oberyn rubbed a hand over his face. "I...Gods...I know I've hurt you. Perhaps I don't know just how deeply and I know that you may never forgive me but Lya...I...I never meant to hurt you." He looked at her. "There is a part of me that _does_ love you."

Lyanna scoffed lightly but before she could say anything Oberyn pressed on, knowing he had to, knowing he had to explain, to be honest with her.

"I _do_ love you, Lyanna. Though...Though it will never be as I love Ellaria. My love for you...it is no less important than that which I feel for Ellaria it is just...it is..."

"Different."

Oberyn looked at her, seeing some of the fierce fury had left her expression, and he nodded. When Lyanna sighed she looked down at Jon, sleeping so peacefully, so unaware of the turmoil that burned between his parents. She combed her fingers through his dark curls and smiled almost sadly.

"I realized this morning," she said softly. "Why my brother Brandon always looked sad when he thought no one was looking."

Oberyn said nothing, not understanding the relevance, but willing to let Lyanna say whatever it was she felt needed to be said.

"He was in love with Ashara. But knew he could never be with her. Would never have the sort of love with her that he wanted. It must have eaten at his very heart and soul." She looked at Oberyn then. "I know now how he must have felt."

"Lya..."

"I thought time would bring you and I the sort of love my parents shared." She smiled almost sadly. "But we've been married for years now and...and look at where we are." She shook her head. "It makes me wonder if maybe the Gods are mocking us."

Oberyn reached out to cup Lyanna's cheek, not caring that his bold actions might result in her striking him, he just could not sit there and see the sorrow that was now trickling into her eyes, he had to do something to try and alleviate her suffering. The suffering he had caused. He rubbed his thumb lightly in gentle circles over her cheek.

"I hold little faith or trust in the Gods, Old or New," he said softly, giving the faintest of smiles. "But I do not believe they are mocking us. They merely place the path before us. What we do on that path is our choice and mine...mine have not always been right. But marrying you, even under the command of my brother, was not one of those wrong choices."

She started to shake her head but Oberyn pressed on before she could try and argue with him.

"Our marriage is not perfect, no marriage truly is, but I would not trade it for anything in the world."

"Even being able to marry your paramour?"

Oberyn leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Lyanna's, his smile widening ever so slightly.

"Not even for that. I love you, Lyanna. Not as you truly deserve, and Gods know you deserve all the love in the world, but the love I have for you _is_ true. You are my wife, the mother of my son, my _first_ son, and, not matter what, I will always love you. I would not give any of that up even if it meant being able to marry Ellaria a thousand times."

Lyanna pulled back slightly, turning away from him, looking down at Jon and Oberyn's heart hammered against his ribs as he waited for her to speak.

"I want to believe you," she said as she finally looked back at him. "I do. I just...I..."

She looked away again and Oberyn realized just how deeply he had hurt her. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, but he could tell from her posture that she wouldn't accept it. That right now what she needed, more than his or anyone else's attempts at comfort, was time. And while he wanted to prove to her that he did, in his own way, love her he knew he had to give her time, to prove he was willing to wait for her to be ready. Otherwise all he would do would be drive a much larger wedge between them.

"It's alright, Lya," he said as he lightly touched her knee, not surprised when she jerked away slightly. He immediately withdrew his hand. "It's alright. I...I'm willing, to give you however much time you need, I swear by the Gods, Old and New, that I will give you time and...and anything else you need."

She looked at him, silent for a few minutes, studying his face, searching for something before she finally nodded. "Thank you."

Oberyn smiled. "It is I who should be thanking you. After what I did...I don't think anyone would have blamed you if you had asked Doran to end our marriage."

Lyanna huffed. "I'm angry with you, yes, but not so angry that I would throw away everything we have, everything we have built together."

Oberyn nodded again and was surprised when Lyanna reached out, fingers brushing lightly through his hair, untangling a knot within the curls with a vicious tug that made him wince even as she spoke.

"You're exhausted," she said with a shake of her head. "Did you ride nonstop until you reached Starfall?"

He chuckled faintly. "Sounds about right."

"Stupid oaf of a man."

That had him smiling because that sounded more like the Lyanna he knew and loved. He was surprised again when she shifted, slowly rising to her feet, gesturing towards the bed. "Sleep," she said as she grabbed a shawl and stepped towards the doors. "Gods know my thoughts are too loud to allow me to do so now."

"Lya..."

"Just..." She shook head as she opened the door, barely glancing back at him. "Just sleep, Oberyn."

Without another word she slipped out of the room, the door quietly closing behind her.

Oberyn sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before he laid down, arm wrapping about his son, who turned in his embrace and snuggled closer. He smiled into Jon's dark curls, hugging his precious boy close, sleeping claiming him quickly.


	36. Chapter 36

Lyanna was surprised when, instead of immediately whisking them back to the Water Gardens, Oberyn decided to stay in Starfall for a few days. She suspected part of it was because he'd ridden so hard to get to the castle, to get to her and their son, that he was still exhausted even if he had rested well since first arriving.

One afternoon, sitting in the training yard, Lyanna watched as Oberyn tried to convince Jon to try holding a miniature spear, as he no doubt once had with Obara, but their pup shook his head, holding up his wooden sword and, in a voice that reminded her very much of Ned, declared the sword was his weapon and, though Oberyn obviously wished his first son had chosen the same weapon as he, her husband nodded and ruffled Jon's hair affectionately.

"I will never understand his love for the spear," Edina said from beside her, shaking her head, holding a sleepy Edric close.

Lyanna chuckled softly. "His mother wielded the spear." She watched Jon totter away from his father, content with swinging his little wooden sword as he made his way over to her. "It's his way of honouring her and the heritage of their House."

Edina hummed lightly, saying nothing more on the subject, but she glanced to the side, watching as Arden approached the training circle where Oberyn was deftly twirling his spear. "Well finally," she muttered and Lyanna followed her gaze, just as surprised and relieved as Edina.

Since their tussle the morning of Oberyn's arrival the two men had been seemingly avoiding one another.

Lyanna started to smile, thinking perhaps the two friends were finally going to start mending the rift between them, but that smile quickly dropped away and her eyes widened in shock, Edina gasping loudly beside her, when Arden, now within arms reach of Oberyn, drove his fist once more into his friend's jaw, sending the unprepared Prince stumbling to the side, spear falling from his grasp even as dark eyes, wide with pain and shock, swung up to meet Arden's blazing violet gaze.

"While I am glad you and Lyanna have come to some sort of truce," the Lord of Starfall declared, loud enough for all to hear, arms crossing over his chest, gaze hard as stone. "The next time she comes running to me, seeking shelter from you, no matter the reason, I'll take great pleasure in cutting your cock and balls off before feeding them to the nearest pigs. Am I clear, my Prince?"

Lyanna blinked.

Had Arden truly just said that? Had he truly just threatened his friend, his Prince, over his treatment of her?

Oberyn regarded Arden silently for a moment.

A serpent ever watchful of the approaching hawk.

But then a grin, Oberyn's easy, laidback grin, spread across his face and the tension in the air vanished like dust on the wind.

"I expect there'll be quite the line for you to join."

Arden snorted. "Then I'll settle for whatever piece of you your brother and good-relatives leave behind. Provided Lord Stark doesn't just feed your carcass to a pack of wolves that is."

A grin stole across Arden's face and Oberyn chuckled.

Lyanna shook her head as Jon climbed into her lap, regarding his father and Arden with mixed confusion and curiosity. "I swear," she said as she looked at Edina. "I'll never understand men."

Edina nodded her agreement even as Oberyn and Arden began to spar, trying to outdo each other not just out of friendly competition but because their wives and children were present. Both wanted a chance, however small, to appear as the better warrior. It made Lyanna roll her eyes and Edina shake her head. The pair of them thinking their husbands were just plain foolish.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

That evening Lyanna sat in one of the warm receiving chambers of Starfall, watching the fire dance in the hearth, thinking over everything. And all she managed to do was cause a slight headache to build behind her eyes. Rubbing a hand over her face she drew a deep breath and tried not to let her worry and doubts and fears consume her. 

"Lyanna?"

She looked up at the quiet voice and watched as Oberyn walked closer.

"Oberyn," she said as he walked to the lounger just opposite the one she was sitting on.

"I've decided we should leave for the Water Gardens in the morning."

She made a low sound as her emotions began to swirl once again. She'd been expecting that for days. But now, faced with having to return to her home, the home she was expected to share with her husband's paramour, she felt the desire to run once more. She felt the desire to take her son and flee to Winterfell, to the safety of the North. Unlike Arden her brother would never hand her back over to her husband. He would harbour her until the world burned down around them first.

And yet, despite that desire, despite her want to see husband hurt as much as she hurt she refused to run again.

She wasn't a coward to run a second time.

She was a Princess of Dorne, the She-Wolf of Sunspear, she would give no more ground. She would not run again.

"Very well."

It was all she said and she could tell, from the way Oberyn quickly looked at her again, that it was not the reaction he had been expecting. Had he thought she would argue? That she would put up some sort of fight?

"Did you think I wouldn't want to return home, Oberyn?"

He gave her an unreadable look and she realized he was guarding his emotions carefully. That whatever he was truly thinking was locked behind the mask his wore.

"I thought you would...argue about Ellaria still being there before agreeing to come home."

Lyanna stiffened. She'd known that her husband's paramour was still in the Water Gardens, had been prepared to overlook it as best she could, but being so bluntly reminded of the other woman was like being slapped in the face. She looked away from Oberyn, drawing a deep breath, trying to get a hold on her anger before she did something foolish. Like strike him.

"Would it do me any good to rage at you for that?" She slowly looked back to him, knowing he saw the anger in her eyes when he stiffened, hands clenching slightly. "If I screamed and demanded you remove her from our home before I consented to return would you? Would you give her up if I were to ask?"

She saw the answer clear as day in his eyes and she scoffed as she shook her head.

"Of course you won't," she spat, her gaze narrowing into a cold glare. "Because you _love_ her. You would put her first even if it cost you your wife. The wife who mothered your daughters. The wife who nearly _died_ to give you a son! You would cast me aside if it meant being able to keep your whore!"

Oberyn's gaze blazed with his own anger then.

"Do not call her..." He started but Lyanna cut him off as she surged to her feet.

"A whore?" She barked out a bitter, humourless laugh. "But that's what she is, Oberyn! Your ancestors may have given them the fancy title of _paramour_ but it still means the same thing! She's the whore you chose over me! Nothing but a cheap, wretched whore!"

The sudden slap echoed loudly and her cheek stung sharply.

Silence reigned for several long, tense, heartbeats before Oberyn was suddenly speaking quickly, voice and eyes full of shame and regret.

"Lya...Gods...Lya I didn't mean...I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Gods...I didn't...Lya..."

She reacted without thought, her anger driving her and she struck him, her fist landing solidly against his jaw. The ensuing scuffle was brief, anger blinding her, compromising her ability to put up a proper fight and, in the blink of an eye, Oberyn had her pinned down on the lounger, hands curled around her wrists to keep her from striking him again. She hissed like an angry cat, attempting to buck him off her, struggling to her free her arms, but he was larger, stronger, and as she glared up at him, chest heaving, she felt something other than rage surged through her.

She saw the same feeling reflected in Oberyn's dark eyes and, before she could properly think about it, she reacted on instinct. Surging upwards she pressed an angry, bruising kiss to his lips. He growled in response, giving as good as she gave, kissing back with a fierceness she had never felt from him before. He deepened the kiss, hands releasing her wrists before going to her clothing. 

She wasn't certain how they managed it but one moment she was fully clothed and the next she lay naked and bare beneath her equally naked husband. Her hands twisted in the short strands of his hair as Oberyn, lying between her splayed legs, which he had pushed over his shoulders, moved his mouth and tongue over the most intimate part of her.

The sounds, lewd and wet, that he made as he licked and suckled at her, his stubble scrapping lightly against her inner thighs, had her squirming and gasping loudly, her back arching and hips rocking towards him as pleasure mixed with her rage, created a tempest within in that threatened to break her apart. His tongue prodded lightly, lapping for a moment, before slipping inside, learning and memorizing the texture and pleasure. When he sucked at that tiny bead of pleasure, tongue slipping forth to flick over it, she cried out and bucked.

Her hips rolled as he continued, and she held his head firmly in place, pressing herself to his mouth. Her breasts heaved as she gasped for breath, and her fingers clenched and unclenched in his hair, making him groan deeply. Lyanna let out a strangled sob as the vibrations hit her. When he pressed two fingers into her, rough and fast, still licking and sucking, she all but sobbed.

He crooked his fingers forward and began to flutter them teasingly, she cried out again, and the tightness that had been building in her threatened to snap. Coiling like a spring wound too tightly in her core until, as he flicked his tongue over that bead of pleasure, it finally snapped.

Oberyn found the cry Lyanna let loose as she found her release to be like that of a howling wolf and it filled him with a sense of pride to know that he had brought her that release. That he had been the one to bring about that howl, the clawing fingers at his shoulders and neck, the wild buck of her hips and the quivering in her every limb. Giving her no time to come down from that high, knowing he could make it all the sweeter, he quickly withdrew his fingers and moved up her body, dropping soft kisses along her smooth, pale skin as he moved until he could align the head of his cock to her core. Once he felt the tip of his cock surrounded by overwhelming wet heat, he just slammed all the way into her in one single, hard thrust, making her cry out at the overload of sensation.

He gripped her hips, fingers tight enough that he knew her skin would be marred by dark, angry bruises later, and, with a deep groan he began to move. His thrusts at first were gentle. Trying to convey all that he felt for Lyanna in the movement of his body, in his pleasuring her, but when she looked up at him from beneath the fan of her lashes, eyes like chips of dark ice, and dug her nails into the flesh of his back, he knew that wasn't what he wanted from him. Not in that moment. Not when pleasure was mixing with anger to create a sensation unlike any other. That was all the incentive he needed. 

His pace was hungry and desperate, quickly settling into a demanding rhythm.

With every hard thrust, Lyanna let out a delicious little cry close to his ear, her legs wrapping around his waist, hands dragging down his back, nails biting sharply even as he drove, over and over, into her, dragging out the pleasure of her last release all while building up yet another one. She managed, once more, to tangle her fingers in his hair, tugging sharply, almost painfully, even as she whimpered and bucked, hips rocking to meet each of his thrusts.

Oberyn groaned as he kissed over her cheeks, claiming her lips in a kiss just as demanding as his thrusts. Their pleasure building and building, rising like a wild ocean wave, as his thrusts increased, becoming almost feral in their intensity until Lyanna, already close to a peak from her previous release, let out another of those howling, wolf cries and her body clenched and fluttered around him. 

Her nails bit into his shoulders, legs tensing around his hips, and he threw his head back as he thrust roughly into her until his rhythm began to falter as she trembled under him, every muscle tensed until finally, finally, he felt himself teeter and fall over the edge of his release. Still panting for breath, heart hammering against his ribs, he leaned in, brushing his nose against hers before he kissed her deeply, lazily, more than content to cover her with his body as his cock softened inside her.

Lyanna made a low sound as her legs slowly dropped away from her waist but remained bent at the knee, bracketing him between her legs as she struggled to gain control of her breathing.

He had just started to lift his head, thinking to kiss her again, when she suddenly pushed at his chest, her silent demand more than clear. He eased himself from her and moved off of her. He wanted to hold her, to bask in their afterglow together, but she slipped, quiet as a shadow, from beneath him and he could do nothing but watch as she gathered her clothes, dressing in quick, sharp movements. She had just started for the door when he managed to speak her name, causing her to still for but a moment before she shook her head, dark hair spilling down her back and over her shoulders, and left the room, the door banging loudly shut behind her.


	37. Chapter 37

When they left Starfall it took them little more than a week to return to the Water Gardens.

During the journey Oberyn tried, several times, to speak to Lyanna about what had happened between them but his wife was careful to always keep Jon near enough that he was unable to broach the subject properly. And, even when their son slept, she refused to acknowledge his attempts to speak with her so, after the first few days he stopped trying. 

When they finally reached the Water Gardens they were greeted by Doran, who hugged Lyanna and welcomed her home. Mellario was next to embrace her. And then, then came the four faces that Lyanna had missed the most. Her girls. Obara let out a sharp cry of _Mother!_ before racing to hug her, followed quickly by Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella. There were tears, laughter and promises that she wouldn't ever leave them like that again.

And then Ellaria had stepped forward to greet Oberyn with their daughter, their little Elia, and Lyanna felt Jon hesitate, his hand gripped her pant leg, when his father beckoned him forth, telling him to come meet his little sister. She smiled when he looked up at her, lightly touching his shoulder. "It's alright, pup," she said softly, still smiling, knowing that, however she felt about Ellaria and Oberyn, she would never deny her son his sibling. "Go on. Go meet her."

She watched Jon slowly make his way over, his grey eyes scanning over the babe that his father held even as Oberyn crouched down so Jon could see her better.

"This is Elia, Jon," Oberyn said with a gentle smile, the babe cooing and making other happy baby sounds. "She's your sister."

Jon blinked.

"But she's not Mama's baby."

Oberyn glanced, briefly at Lyanna, before back to Jon. "No, no Elia is Ellaria's baby but she _is_ your sister. Just as Obara, Nym, Tyene and Sarella are your sisters."

Jon studied his father for a moment. The boy understood that his elder sisters and he did not share the same mother, though they called her mother anyways, but this little babe was different somehow. She wasn't like his other sisters. Her mother was right there, standing just behind his father, but his mother had told him it was okay. That the babe was his sister. He drew a little breath and slowly, almost tentatively, lifted his hand, offering it to the babe who eagerly grasped his fingers, still cooing happily.

"Hello, Elia," he said softly, smiling just a bit. "I'm Jon. I'm your big brother."

Little Elia cooed and giggled and slowly Jon's smile widened.

Lyanna smiled in relief only pulling her gaze from the sight when Obara bumped against her lightly. Her eldest girl was scowling a bit.

"How can you accept it?" Obara's voice was barely above a whisper, not wanting to cause too much a scene, which told Lyanna that something had happened while she'd been gone. "How can you just tell Jon to accept it?"

Lyanna took Obara's hand in hers, lacing their fingers together with a smile, glancing back at her son, now holding Elia in his arm with his father's help. "Because it's not that little girl's fault," she said, speaking just as softly as Obara had. "She's no more to blame for the actions of her parents than any other child."

Obara glanced at her father, at her little brother and sister, trying to see it as Lyanna did. But all she saw was the daughter of the woman her father had tried to replace Lyanna with. She couldn't see the girl as her sister. Something must have reflected in her face because Lyanna was suddenly cupping her cheek, smiling softly, giving her a knowing and understanding look.

"Give it time, little snake," Lyanna said softly, rubbing her thumb lightly over Obara's cheek.

Obara shook her head. "You once said that time doesn't fix everything."

Lyanna's smile changed, becoming just a little sad and Obara wanted to kick herself, she hadn't meant to make her mother sad, she never meant for that. But Lyanna didn't fault her for her words, merely gave a small nod.

"No," Lyanna agreed, looking once again at her son, that sad smile still gracing her face. "No it doesn't. But there is always hope, Obara. Never forget that."

Obara gave a slow nod and Lyanna wrapped her arm about the girl's shoulder, hugging her to her side before she tried to lighten the mood. "I trust you have been keeping up with your training," she said and immediately Obara's expression brightened, the girl nodded eagerly.

"I've finally mastered that little trick Father always uses to disarm me," the girl said proudly and Lyanna smiled brightly at her daughter.

"Will you show me?"

Obara nodded eagerly again and, together with her sisters, they went to the training yard. It felt as though nothing had truly changed. Lyanna sparred first with Obara, impressed with her eldest girl's improvements, and then with Nymeria, who revealed she had figured out a new spot on her body on which to carry a hidden knife. It felt good to be with her girls again and, as she sat in the shade, watching them train with one another, offering helpful tips and advice to improve their skill, Lyanna found herself smiling happily as Tyene and Sarella tucked themselves to either side of her.

Even with all that had happened, with all that could yet come to pass, it felt good to be home.


	38. Chapter 38

Being back in the Water Gardens was, oddly enough, no different than it had been before she'd left.

Lyanna settled pretty much back into the routine she'd had before she left. Though, admittedly, she spent much more time with the girls, trying to reassure them that she wasn't just going to up and leave again. Not without talking to them first at least. Obara had even made her swear, by the Gods Old and New, in front of the weirwood tree, to never disappear like that again.

When she was not with her precious girls she would either spend time with Mellario, watching their children play and laugh together, or sit on Doran's council. It didn't take her long to catch up to the goings on in both the Water Gardens and Sunspear or to prove that, despite her disappearance and sudden return, she was still worthy to sit on that council.

The time she had to herself wasn't truly her own as she mostly spent it with Jon, watching over his lessons, both academic and in the training yard. Despite his age and how small he was, Jon was a quick study, easily picking up the techniques Areo and Oberyn showed him, though it seemed Areo was the better teacher as he, like Jon, preferred the sword over the spear. She tried to help teach her son how to wield his sword but as the weeks passed she found herself getting tired more and more easily so she left the physical training to Areo and her husband, focusing her attention on helping Jon with his studies instead.

One afternoon, nearly three months after returning home, Lyanna left Doran's council chamber and went in search of her son to begin his afternoon lessons before Areo had the chance to get the boy to the training yard otherwise she'd never get Jon to sit still and focus on his studies.

Hurrying down the corridor she had just rounded the corner when she heard familiar laughter.

Jon's laughter.

She stood, frozen, in the middle of the corridor, staring, unblinking, at the sight just down the hallway from her.

Jon, laughing and smiling, was being held by Ellaria, who was smiling at him and hugging him close. A coldness filled Lyanna as she watched Ellaria laugh and nuzzle at Jon's cheek, making him squeal with laughter as he clung to her, smiling at her like he did with Mellario. And Lyanna felt a surge of wrongness as she continued to watch. It wasn't right. Ellaria had no right to be so familiar with her son. None. She had no right to act like a cherished friend when she was nothing but Oberyn's...

Lyanna blinked, shaking the thoughts away even as she stepped down the hall, hands clenching tightly at her sides.

"Jon."

Her precious pup's head snapped around immediately at the sound of her voice and he smiled brightly.

"Mama!" 

He squirmed in Ellaria's arms and the woman laughed warmly as she sat him on his feet. Jon raced to Lyanna and wrapped his arms around her. As she hugged him Lyanna prayed he wouldn't feel how tense she was. She smiled when he looked up at her, combing her fingers through those dark curls, trying to act like everything was fine.

"It's time for your lessons, pup," she said softly, fighting to keep the ice from her voice. "Go on. I'll meet you in my chamber."

Jon nodded, still smiling, and went to step away but paused long enough to turn and say goodbye to Ellaria before he hurried off down the hall. Lyanna knew she should turn and follow her son, should just ignore what she had seen, should push away the nasty thoughts and the anger, but something in her just wouldn't let her. It clawed at her like an icy winter wind and fanned the flames of her anger.

Giving Ellaria, who for the last few months she'd carefully avoided, a sharp yet cold look she drew a deep breath and, before she knew it, she was speaking.

"Stay away from my son."

Ellaria blinked.

"Princess, I..."

"I don't care," Lyanna snarled as she took a step forward, hands once again clenching at her sides. "Whatever your excuses I don't care. I want you to _stay away_ from my son. You are not going to steal him from me as you did his father."

Ellaria's eyes went wide, her shock written all over her face. "Princess..."

Lyanna shook her head, stepping towards Ellaria, gaze narrowing.

"You _will_ stay away from my son," Lyanna growled, sounding like a wolf, her eyes flashing with her anger. "Because if you do not I will do what I should have done when Oberyn first brought you into my home and go to my good-brother and I will see you thrown from the Water Gardens. Am I in any way unclear?"

"I didn't mean any..."

"I said, _am I clear?!_ "

Ellaria looked like she was going to argue and part of Lyanna hoped she did.

It had been a long time since she'd taken out her anger and frustration on someone and, right now, after everything that she had been through, after everything she thought she could handle, she was perfectly fine with taking it all out on Ellaria.

But Ellaria said nothing, merely nodded her head as her eyes shone with unshed tears.

Lyanna drew a deep breath, gave Ellaria one last glare, before turning on her heel and going on her way. By the time she reached her chambers she had calmed considerably and was able to fully focus on her son and his studies, smiling when he proved that, young or not, he was intelligent. They had just started to go over the main Houses of Dorne when the door flew open.

Instinct had her quickly moving Jon from her lap to the other side of the bench she sat on, putting herself between the door and her son, tension filling her, ready to protect Jon from anything, only to watch as Oberyn entered the sitting area. Those dark eyes were narrowed and his jaw set in a hard line. 

"Jon."

Jon moved and looked around her at his father, smiling at him because, unlike her, he did not see the fire, the rage, in Oberyn eyes. She knew Ellaria must have gone to him, had told what had happened. She sat, still as stone, watching Oberyn, who was giving her, for the first time in a long time, a cold look.

"Jon," Oberyn said, voice level and calm though there was a slight sharpness to it. "I need to speak to you mother. Alone."

Jon nodded, smile fading a tiny bit, but he glanced at Lyanna, now having picked up on her tension, on the tension in the room, before climbing from his chair and walking from the room. Oberyn waited until the door had shut behind their son before he spoke, his tone sharp as a dagger and full of the anger he was trying so hard to hide.

"What were you thinking?!"

She said nothing and Oberyn seethed where he stood.

"You threatened Ellaria! And over what?! Her kindness to our son?!"

Still she said nothing but her silence seemed to just anger him further.

"You said, during our return from Starfall, that you could accept Ellaria being here! You were so reasonable about it, so understanding, and now you decide to act the jealous, petty wife? Why? What in the name of the Gods could have ever possessed you to act this way, Lya?!"

Lyanna surged to her feet, glaring at Oberyn, feeling her anger blaze to the forefront once again. "Because she has no right to my son!"

Oberyn blinked and though surprise filtered into his gaze it did nothing to dampen the anger.

"You...You threatened her because..."

"It is bad enough I have to live in the same home as the woman who all but stole my husband but I will not stand by and watch her weasel her way into my son's heart and steal him too! I won't do it, Oberyn! I'll see Jon fostered in Winterfell first!"

Lyanna's voice rose in volume as she finally said the words that, for months, she had kept locked away inside. Wanting to believe she could overcome her feelings. But it seemed she was, as Oberyn had said, a petty, jealous, wife after all.

Oberyn gave a low sound and shook his head, looking at her like he barely recognized her.

"All because she was being kind." He shook his head again. "Because she wished the brother of her daughter to know she cared about him too."

Lyanna shook her head. "She..."

"You had no right to treat her that way!" Oberyn's voice was as loud as thunder, louder than she had heard it before, and her heart leapt, pounding like a frightened rabbit against her ribs. "She has been nothing but kind, has tried to befriend you even, but you spurn her at every turn! Avoid her like she has some sickness you might catch! And now you threaten her! The woman I love, Lyanna!"

"I guess I'm just too Northern," she spat, gaze narrowing and her anger boiling through her veins. "Or maybe I'm acting like any woman spurned by her husband! By the man she loves! Did you ever think of that? That no matter what, no matter what you say or do, I will always be the woman whose husband all but told her she wasn't good enough?! And then, to make it worse, I have to live with the woman who, apparently, is good enough!"

Oberyn blinked but Lyanna wasn't finished, it seemed a floodgate had been opened and she couldn't close it again.

"Everyone kept telling me how strong I was, how accepting, for not demanding your whore leave the Waters Gardens but it wasn't strength! It wasn't! I was just too Gods be damned weak to speak up! To tell you that seeing her, day in and day out, was too much to bear. To tell you I would do anything, everything, you asked of me if you would but only give her up!

And now she, and you, think I wouldn't, or shouldn't, be angry by her trying to get close to my son. _My son!_ You can call me petty and jealous all you want but I am _human_ , Oberyn! I am allowed to be upset by things I have no power to change! I am allowed to not want your whore to steal my son as she has stolen you!"

Oberyn blinked again, clearly stunned by her outburst, by her words, but she didn't want his surprise or his understanding or anything else from him. She just wanted him to go away. 

"Do you think that I..." She blinked as the world suddenly began to spin and she felt light headed. "I...I..."

Gasping softly for breath she tried to reach out for the table, needing to steady herself as her knees suddenly grew weak.

"Lyanna?" 

Oberyn's voice, though still angry, held a hint of concern, but he sounded so very far away.

She started to turn, or rather tried to, but her body was no longer in her control and, the next thing she knew she was falling. She heard Oberyn shout and then he was there, his arms wrapping securely, carefully, around her. She tried to focus, tried to fight the darkness creeping into her vision, but it was like some unseen force was dragging her down. The last thing she was aware of before the darkness fully claimed her was Oberyn shouting her name.


	39. Chapter 39

Lyanna woke to someone stroking her hair and the sharp sound of Obara's voice.

"If you hadn't upset her then this wouldn't have happened!"

"Obara," Oberyn's voice was soft yet clipped. "You need to..."

"If anything happens to either of them because of your stupidity I swear, _Father_ , I'll..."

Lyanna inhaled deeply, sleepily. 

"No threatening your father, little snake," she murmured as she opened her eyes and blinked, finding Obara standing next to the bed, glowering in a way that looked so very much like Oberyn that Lyanna would have laughed if she didn't feel like she'd just been hit by a lance in a joust. Turning her head she found the person stroking her hair was Nymeria and that Oberyn stood near the foot of the bed, glowering just as much as Obara. "What happened?"

Oberyn opened his mouth but it was Maester Sevran, who was gathering his medicinal bag from the near by table, who answered her question.

"You passed out, Princess." The Maester crossed back to the bed, gently probing at her abdomen. "Do you feel any pain?"

Lyanna shook her head. "I'm a little...little tired but no...no pain."

"Good, that's good," he said as he stepped back a bit. "As I said you passed out. I suspect, in part, due to stress."

Lyanna blinked.

"In part?"

Maester Sevran smiled and nodded. "Yes, Princess. The other part, I believe, is due to you being with child. Stress and pregnancy have never been good bedfellows."

Lyanna felt her heart leap into her throat.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

"Now," Maester Sevran said as he gathered up his things. "Rest for the day, Princess, and, for the next little while at least, try to take things easy. The less stress you experience the better."

"I have a toddler, Maester, and I sit the council, stress is nearly unavoidable."

Maester Sevran chuckled. "I'm sure Oberyn and the girls will assist with keeping a watchful eye over young Jon and I will speak to Doran about perhaps limiting your work with the council to the less strenuous matters." He saw her frown and shook his head. "Or I could order you to bed rest and have one of my apprentices monitor you day in and day out."

Lyanna pulled a face and ignored the giggle from Nymeria. "I think the first option is very agreeable, Sevran, thank you."

The Maester chuckled again and nodded. "Very good, Princess. I'd like to check on you again in a few days, just to be certain everything is still well."

Lyanna nodded and Maester Sevran gave a slight bow before leaving the room.

Sighing softly Lyanna closed her eyes and had just started to drift off again when she heard Obara snarl something at Oberyn though it was hushed enough that she couldn't clearly make it out. What she did clearly hear was Nymeria suddenly speaking up.

"That's enough! You heard Maester Sevran, Mother needs peace and rest. Not the two of you bickering like children. Now either calm down or get the hell out."

Lyanna forced her eyes to open once more and watched, silent and surprised, as her husband and daughter both fell silent. They were still glowering at one another but the bickering did not start again and she was grateful. She knew she would, at some point, need to talk to Obara about her recent attitude, but right now all she wanted was to just lay there and have a bit of time to come to terms with the knowledge that she was pregnant.

Pregnant with the child of a man who had chosen another woman over her.

She closed her eyes as she drew a deep breath, feeling, not for the first time, that the Gods were laughing at her.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Oberyn left his daughters with Lyanna, knowing they wouldn't leave her until she woke again and they were satisfied that she was going to be alright. He would have stayed, had wanted to stay, but the tension between Obara and himself had been too much. He knew that it would negatively effect Lyanna, would cause her more stress, and Maester Sevran had explicitly said she could not suffer anymore stress. So he had left the room, wandering the corridors almost aimlessly until he reached the nursery.

He could hear Ellaria singing softly and drawing a deep breath he entered the room.

Ellaria was sitting by the windows, gently rocking Elia, singing a lullaby.

Oberyn's heart leapt up into his throat for a moment as his mind conjured up an image of Lyanna, singing to a babe. A little girl perhaps. A girl with dark hair and grey eyes and pale skin like her mother. A girl who would be just as strong and fierce as Lyanna. It was nearly enough to cause him to turn right back around and return to his wife no matter what his eldest daughter said or did.

"Oberyn?"

Ellaria's voice drew him from his thought and he tried to smile but knew he'd failed when she frowned at him. "You fought with Lyanna again, didn't you," she asked, shaking her head as she cradled Elia to her chest, rising to her feet. "Lover, I told you to leave it alone. She'll think I came running to you, that I'm trying to turn you against her."

"I..."

"I swear Ana is a bigger gossip than any high born woman I have ever met! Stupid maid should have had sense enough not to speak of what she saw and heard between Lyanna and I. It was not her place to tell you anything!"

"She only did what she thought was right."

Ellaria snorted and turned, carefully laying Elia in her cradle. "What happened between Lyanna and myself is no ones concern but ours." She looked at him again and frowned, seeing the tension in his shoulders, the worry in his eyes. "But this fight was different, wasn't it? You've never come back from arguing with her looking so...strained."

Strained was certainly one word for how he felt.

"She was fully open about her feelings. Towards me. You. The entire situation we find ourselves in."

Ellaria had known that Lyanna's true feelings had yet to be expressed. That the younger woman was bottling things up. It seemed she'd finally reached her breaking point. Looking at Oberyn again her expression was one of understanding. "What else? You wouldn't be so tense if it had only been her expressing her feelings."

Oberyn rubbed a hand over his face and let out a low sigh.

"She collapsed while shouting at me." He shook his head when Ellaria drew a sharp breath, eyes widening in shock and fear. "She's fine, Ellaria, I swear she is fine."

"Women who are fine do not just collapse, Oberyn!" Ellaria snapped, perhaps more hotly than she had meant to but hearing that Lyanna had collapsed was beyond worrisome. She and the younger woman may not have had even a tendril of friendship between them but that did not mean she did not worry over the other. She was, after all, Oberyn's wife and mother to his children. "What happened?"

"She's with child." 

"With child?"

Oberyn nodded.

"You do not seem overly happy with it."

"I am," he said quickly and part of him was. His proudest moments were always the days he had become, or realized he was, a father. But this time was different. He and Lyanna were not exactly on good terms with one another. How could they attempt to raise a second child together when practically every time they were in the same room they nearly tore one another's heads off. "I just...I don't see...I..."

Ellaria stepped over to him, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to meet her gaze. "You need to speak to her, Oberyn." Her tone was firm, telling him that she wouldn't accept any of his excuses. "You nearly lost her once because you couldn't find the will to simply talk to her. Don't make that mistake again."

Oberyn smiled a bit, tipping his head down to press his forehead to hers. "Very well. But I do not foresee it going well or gaining anything from it."

Ellaria pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

"Even if it doesn't it will still be a step in the right direction, lover."

Oberyn wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her dark hair, silently praying to all the Gods that she was right.


	40. Chapter 40

When Lyanna woke again it was dark, though through the curtains covering the windows she could see the sky was beginning to lighten with the dawn's glow, and she thought she was alone but when she went to move she quickly realized that she was surrounded by her children. She couldn't help but smile, touched by their love and concern, yet she found herself restless. She'd been abed for hours and, as much as she loved being surrounded by her son and daughters, she needed to move, to do something other than lay there until they woke.

Slowly, carefully, she managed to slip free of the tangle of limbs without waking anyone.

Looking down at the sight her children made her smile widened.

Grabbing a shawl from a nearby chest, the soft grey fabric draped lightly over her shoulders, she quietly left the room. The hallways were silent and still, the servants not yet hustling about tending to their chores, and she found it oddly comforting. She rubbed a hand over her abdomen, thinking of the child that grew within.

As she continued to walk she realized she was nearing nursery and Oberyn's chamber. She rarely ventured that way, typically using the longer path along another corridor just to avoid seeing Ellaria. Normally she would have turned and walked a different way but as early as it was she just continued onwards. There was little chance Oberyn's paramour would be out of bed as this early hour and if she continued on she could use the nearby servants passageway to get down to the stables, where she could sit with Winter for a while without being disturbed, all without having to circle back to the main stairway.

She had just started by the door leading to the nursery when she heard it.

The soft whimpers of a babe that came before wails and tears.

She paused, listening to that sound, trying to force herself to move. It wasn't her concern. The babe's mother would hear the cries and tend to it. She should just keep going on to the stable. And yet those whimpers called to her. Called to the part of her that was a mother and, without true decision, she found herself turning, moving towards the door. She stepped quietly into the nursery, all the while some small, vicious voice in her mind told her not to, to just ignore the quiet whimpering of the babe and leave. 

It was, funnily enough, a voice that sounded too much like Robert for her taste so she squashed it. Vehemently. She slowly made her way to the cradle, the tiny girl's whimpers growing louder, and, without conscious thought carefully lifted little Elia into her arms, slipping her shawl from her shoulders, wrapping it around the girl as she cradled her as she had once cradled her son.

"Hush now, little one," she cooed, looking at the tiny face that reminded her so much of Jon as a babe. Of Oberyn. "It's okay. Everything's okay now."

She stepped over to the chair by the window and sat down, rocking Elia gently, wiping tiny tears from those round little cheeks. Elia whimpered, her lower lip quivering, and she blinked up at Lyanna with big dark eyes. Lyanna smiled as she brushed back delicate dark wisps of hair. "Shh, now, little Elia," she cooed, rocking the babe a little more. Elia whimpered again and, to try and sooth the babe, she began to softly sing.

_"Sing me a story of heroes of the North_   
_Fighting through, brave and true_   
_Stubborn as winter and strong as mountain stone_   
_Never too showy or grand_   
_Year after year they persevere_   
_Now and for always_

_Sing me a tale of the bravest of them all_   
_Comrade and guide, at my side_   
_Stouthearted Torrhen who wouldn't let us fall_   
_Holding our lives in his hands_   
_True to the end, no finer King_   
_Now and for always_

_Sit by the firelight's glow_   
_Tell me an old tale I know_   
_Tell of adventures strange and rare_   
_Never to change, ever to share_   
_Stories we tell will cast their spell_   
_Now and for always"_

Lyanna's smile grew as Elia's whimpers faded away and the girl slowly drifted back to sleep, snuggling closer to her, one little hand grasping tightly at the soft fabric of the shawl. It brought back memories of Jon as a baby. Made her think of the babe she would, in time to come, hold and rock and sing too.

"Lyanna?"

She looked up at the sound of her name to find Oberyn watching her from the doorway of the nursery.

"Oberyn," she barely whispered his name, knowing how it must look, her holding the child of the woman she'd threatened. A child she'd barely been able to look at. "This...It...I was passing...going to the stable and she...I heard her whimpering and I...I didn't...I just..."

Oberyn slowly made his way across the room, kneeling before the chair, hand resting against her leg even as he took in the sight of his daughter wrapped in her shawl, held safely, warmly, in her arms. He rubbed his thumb over her knee as he looked up at his wife. "She likes you," he said softly, not wanting to wake his little girl.

Lyanna looked at him like she thought he had lost his mind but when she looked down at Elia her expression became soft, tender, like when she looked at his elder girls and it had hope burning through him. Maybe Ellaria was right. Maybe if he just talked to Lyanna, held an actual conversation instead of another shouting match, maybe they could work through some of their issues.

"Lyanna, I..."

"I'm not sorry."

They spoke in unison in quickly fell silent again, staring at one another, and, in the end, it was Oberyn who managed to speak.

"What?" He didn't understand. Was she saying she wasn't sorry for comforting Elia? 

"For my actions, my words," she said as she gently rocked Elia, her gaze darting from Oberyn to the little girl. "Towards and about...Ellaria. I'm not sorry."

It was the first time he could remember hearing her use the woman's name and the shock of it nearly overshadowed what she'd said but then his mind caught up with the words and he frowned, expression clouding slightly. "Lya..."

"I don't care if it...if it makes me a dreadful woman," she whispered, shaking her head, looking at little Elia, not wanting to see Oberyn's expression as she spoke. "I don't care if it makes me cruel. But I'm...I'm not sorry. I don't know if I'll...I'll ever be sorry." 

Despite his mixed emotions, Oberyn reached up, cupping Lyanna's face between his hands, causing her to fall silent as he tipped her head up so she was looking at him.

"You," he said calmly, but firmly. "Lyanna Martell, are not cruel."

She blinked, looking at him, eyes swirling with surprise and confusion.

"Oberyn..."

"You are not cruel, Lya. Cruel people do not tend to another's child simply because the child was putting up a fuss." He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "You're not cruel, Lya. You could never be truly cruel. Gods know you can be growly and temperamental, you're a she-wolf after all, but never are you cruel. You...You've been asked...expected...to accept too much. Too quickly." 

Lyanna couldn't help but chuckle slightly, giving him the barest hint of a smile. "You can be really sweet sometimes, you know that?"

Oberyn smiled at her. "I think it's now my turn to apologize."

"Oberyn..."

"My actions...the stress I caused you...I could have hurt you. Or the baby." He shook his head. "I would never forgive myself if I caused you or our child harm, Lyanna. And this...it's not an excuse...but when Ana told me what had happened between you and Ellaria I..." 

"Wait." Lyanna shook her head. "Ana?" The girl was a servant, a dear friend of Lyanna's maid Mira. "Ana told you? But I thought it was..."

It was Oberyn's turn to shake his head, knowing well what Lyanna must have thought. 

"Ellaria was here in the nursery with Elia and was...clearly upset, but she wouldn't tell me why. Said it wasn't my concern and that I should let her handle it. When I left the room Ana approached me. Apparently she'd been just down the hall and had happened to overhear...everything. She thought I should know even if Ellaria didn't."

Lyanna said nothing. 

She hadn't expected that.

Hadn't expected that Ellaria would choose to keep silent about what had transpired between them. Something must have shown on her face because Oberyn rubbed her cheek again but she drew back, away from his comforting, gentle touch. What had she done to deserve his comfort? She'd insulted and threatened the woman he loved. And for what? For showing Jon a bit of kindness? She may not have been cruel but she certainly wasn't the woman Oberyn had tried to claim her to be.

She opened her mouth, about to say as much, when a voice, soft and tired, sounded from the doorway.

"Oberyn?"

They both looked to the door, finding Ellaria standing there, looking from Oberyn to Lyanna and back again, clearly confused by what she was seeing.

Lyanna let out a soft sound as she gently, carefully, pushed Elia into Oberyn's arms. She waited until she was certain he had his daughter securely in his grasp before she stood. Oberyn said her name but she ignored him, moving towards the door in somewhat hurried steps. She brushed by the Dornishwoman without a word, letting her feet carry her away towards the stables. She needed time, time to think and come to terms with all that was happening. She couldn't face her husband or his paramour. 

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.


	41. Chapter 41

The following weeks were, thankfully, uneventful.

Lyanna experienced no more fainting or dizzy spells and Maester Sevran seemed confident in his conclusion that the less stress she experienced the better she would be. Doran, to further aid in preventing her from becoming over stressed, and much to her irritation, excused her from all council duties, which left her with endless days with little more to do that sit about feeling quite useless even when she tutored her son or watched her girls train. There was only so much nothing a person could handle.

Mellario tried to keep her spirits up, tried to keep her busy without causing her any undue stress, but Lyanna had never been the sort of woman to sit and sew or paint.

So, when she wasn't with her son or daughters, or being poked and questioned by Maester Sevran about how she was feeling, she found the best place in all of the Water Gardens to spend her copious amount of time was in the little garden where she had planted the weirwood tree. No one bothered her there. Assuming she was praying and speaking with her Old Gods when, in reality, she was just trying to figure out a way to convince her good-brother to let her do something, anything, besides sit about like a lump on a log. 

One afternoon, sitting on the little bench, looking at the tree, its bark pale and its blood red sap trickling down the trunk in places, she laid her hand over her abdomen. It would still be weeks, months, before it would swell with the life growing within but in that moment, sitting before the weirwood tree, the symbol of the Old Gods, she felt as though she could already feel it. Could feel the life, the heart, of her unborn child.

It brought a small smile to her face.

She and Oberyn hadn't properly spoken since the morning in the nursery.

And, if she was being honest about it, she was technically avoiding him as much as she avoided everyone else.

She just wasn't certain what to say or do when it came to her husband anymore.

She felt like she was lost in a storm with no idea which direction was the safest one to travel.

Sighing softly she stood and stepped closer to the weirwood, kneeling down before it and, for the first time in a while, she truly began to pray. She didn't pray for herself, she was fairly certain the Gods were having too much enjoyment with disrupting her life, but she prayed for her children, her own and those she claimed as hers. She prayed their lives would never be as hers was. That they would have peace and stability. That they would never suffer the pain and heartbreak she had. That they would not gain love only to lose it.

She wasn't certain how long she knelt there, only that she was pulled from her thoughts and prayers when she heard footsteps.

Looking up she found Oberyn standing in the archway that led from the garden and back into the Water Gardens. He wasn't looking at her but at the weirwood tree and she remembered the day in Winterfell, the day after their wedding, when she'd taken him to the godswood. He approached slowly, gaze swinging from the weirwood to her, and she wondered how she appeared to him.

"We are in the middle of the Water Gardens," he said as he reached her, settling down next to her. "And I still feel like an outsider before your tree."

Lyanna couldn't help but chuckle as she moved from kneeling to sitting, finding it much more comfortable, looking at her husband with some small measure of amusement.

"You make that joke every time you come here," she said, wishing she didn't find it as charming as she did.

"And you laugh every time I say it."

She nodded because he was right. Looking from him to the weirwood tree she pondered what the Old Gods must think of her husband. Sighing softly she looked back at Oberyn as he sat down next to her. 

"You didn't come here just to make a joke."

It was Oberyn's turn to chuckle.

"I didn't," he agreed with a warm smile. "I came to speak to you about something important."

"Oberyn..."

"I know you may not wish me to be here," he said as though she hadn't spoken. "I know you come here to avoid me and everyone but I...I needed to be certain that you are okay, Lya."

"Why?"

He blinked, almost owlishly, clearly taken back by her words but his smile never wavered as he reached up to rub the backs of his knuckles over her cheek.

"Because you are my wife and, though I haven't shown it well, I love you. I worry over you, Lyanna. Over you and the baby." 

"You don't need to worry," she said, moving away ever so slightly. "I'm fine."

"Which is why you have this feral cat look about you as of late."

Lyanna snorted. "Feral cat?"

Oberyn shrugged. "You look ready to start climbing the walls. You need something to occupy your time with."

She looked at him, surprised, especially when he'd been one of the loudest advocates for her to take things easy, to relax and rest as much as she could, even though she felt perfectly fine. Before she could say anything Oberyn continued.

"Which is why I've convinced Doran to allow you to sit the council two or three days a week. And, if things remain well, he agreed that you could return to your duties permanently."

"You...You did that?"

His smile widened a little more. "I know I've done a poor job of showing it, Lya, but I do want you to be happy."

Lyanna made a soft sound, reaching up to cup his cheek. Smiling she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a soft, butterfly kiss, not surprised when he tried to deepen the kiss, chuckling softly she drew back, pressing her hand to his chest to keep him where he was sitting when he tried to follow her.

"Sometimes," she said softly, still smiling. "Sometimes you're not a complete oaf."

Oberyn chuckled, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, pinning it in place with an orange blossom that had fallen from one of the other trees in the garden.

"After all I've done to hurt you it was time I did something right."

Lyanna laughed, the first time she could remember truly laughing in a long time. And it felt good.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "For not thinking me a fragile, little tea cup."

Oberyn chuckled again.

"I know better than to think such a thing." He brushed his knuckles over her cheek again. "You are a she-wolf. And she-wolves are made of ice and stone. Our babe will be just as strong."

Lyanna ran her hand over her abdomen. It was the first time they had broached the subject of her pregnancy beyond the announcement of it to Doran and the council. She saw Oberyn's gaze drop, following the movement of her hand, and, not for the first time, she found herself wondering how all of this was going to work out. Oberyn once said the Gods merely placed the paths they walked before them. That they decided how to walk those paths. So how were they to raise another child together when they seemed to be walking very different paths?

She looked at the weirwood tree, almost hoping that it could give her an answer, that it would help direct her to the right path.

But its smiling face merely stared back at her with those red dripping eyes.

Silent and laughing.

Like the Gods, Old and New.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Time passed as it always did and almost in the blink of an eye nearly seven months had passed.

At nearly eight months pregnant Lyanna felt swollen and awkward and cranky in way she hadn't been when she'd been pregnant with Jon. And, unfortunately, there were some days were her crankiness got the best of her and she snapped at people or, as was the case one evening with Doran, threw things at them. Thankfully she'd managed to control herself so far around her son. Though she was fairly certain he'd heard her snapping at his sisters and a few of the servants. When she mentioned not understanding the mood swings to Mellario her good-sister had chuckled and lightly combed her hair.

"You could have half a dozen babies," her good-sister explained. "And no two pregnancies would ever be the same. It is unexplainable and a greater annoyance than being swollen up like a beached whale."

It had made Lyanna laugh and she kept it in mind every time the baby kicked or fussed to the point where she couldn't sleep or even sit comfortably.

She had, during her fifth month of pregnancy, and after much needling from both Doran and Oberyn, sent word to Winterfell, to Ned, knowing her brother should hear of her pregnancy from her rather than from gossips who would exaggerate everything. The letter she'd received in reply from Ned had moved her to tears and she'd never be able to put the joy she felt into proper words even if she tried.

Ned had written that he was thrilled to soon have a new niece or nephew to spoil and that, when he could, he wanted to visit, to bring his son Robb to meet her and her family. He'd even expressed an interest in fostering either Jon or her new child when they were old enough.

She had cried for nearly an hour before being able to write a letter in response, telling him that, he was absolutely wonderful and that she was looking forward to his visit and that she couldn't wait to hold her nephew for the first time. That she couldn't wait to see him and Jon play together as she and Ned had as children.

She received quite the surprise when, little over a month after Ned's letter had come, Mellario found her one morning to tell her she had a visitor waiting for her in the main solar. Walking into the solar she'd felt surprise and excitement wash over her at the sight that greeted her.

"Benjen!"

He was taller than he had been the last time she'd seen him and he was dressed, from head to toe, in black, a little, dark coloured crow broach pinned to his tunic.

He hugged her and laughed with her, sitting with her and listening as she told him all about Jon and the girls. When he brushed his hand lightly over her abdomen, soft grey eyes fixed on her face she ended up explaining about what had happened. About Oberyn bringing Ellaria and Elia to the Water Gardens. Her fleeing to Starfall and all that happened after her return to the Water Gardens. When she asked him of his life as a man of the Night's Watch he had chuckled and told her of his training, of the vow he'd taken, how the Lord Commander had made him a ranger. He sounded proud of his duties, of his place among his black brothers, and, though she was glad he had found a place in the world for himself, she couldn't help what she said next.

"You know, when Ned wrote that you had finally taken the Black I was furious. You could have had such a life, Benjen. Why...Why give it all up?"

"When Ned left to fight Robert's war for him I was left as Lord of Winterfell."

Lyanna nodded. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." It was a phrase that, like their House Words, had been passed down through the ages. One generation to the next.

Benjen made a low, almost angry sound.

"Nearly a year I was the Stark in Winterfell," he growled and shook his head. "I was terrified that Ned was going to die. That I'd be left the Stark in Winterfell. When he finally came home I...I had never been so relieved. Not because he'd come home alive but because it meant I wouldn't have to be Lord anymore, that I was no longer the Stark in Winterfell. And I swore that, no matter what it took, I would _never_ be the Stark in Winterfell again. So I took the only path I knew I had. I took the Black."

"Benjen..."

"I do not regret my choice, Lya," he assured her with a gentle smile. "I am happy as a man of the Night's Watch. Truly I am."

Lyanna sighed and, though she still thought her brother deserved more than to serve an order whose glory had long ago passed, she would respect his decision. It was his life to live and however he chose to live it she would support him.

Benjen's visit was short, barely two days, but she understood his duty was to the Watch.

And so days passed and she was soon little over eight months pregnant and, with a fussy, never still unborn babe, and a husband who had begun to become something of a mother hen, she was more than ready for it to all be over. Especially after another incident with Oberyn attempting to help her relax and doing nothing but making her feel grumpier. She finally managed to escape the oh-to-watchful eye of her husband one afternoon, with many thanks to Obara and Nymeria who distracted their father, and she hurried off to her chamber, wanting a little time away from everything and everyone.

She ended up curling up on the little lounger by the open balcony doors and drew a deep, calming breath as she rubbed her hand over her abdomen, feeling her babe kick and thrash.

"Yes, yes, little pup," she tried to sooth as she winced in pain. "I know, I know. You don't like it when mama doesn't move. But mama needs to rest for a little while."

The babe continued fussing and she decided that, should it be another boy, she was naming it for Brandon because, she remembered, her mother had said Brandon had been a horrible babe to carry. Always moving and beating at her from within. Her father has laughed and said it was the wolf blood that caused it.

"Wolf blood, my foot," she grumbled, rubbing the swell of her abdomen, wincing at another sharp kick. "You're going to be a brat. That's all this is. You being a brat. Like your Uncles Brandon and Benjen were as children. You couldn't be more like your Uncle Ned? Or even your Uncle Doran? Quiet and calm?"

Another kick to her side and she sighed.

"Okay, pup, okay," she groaned as she slowly pushed herself up from the lounger. "You win. Mama will walk around for you."

Even though her ankles were swollen and her feet and back hurt worse than they ever had during her sword lessons. But if some discomfort in her back and feet was the price she pain for soothing her babe, for getting it to stop using her insides for target practice, than she would endure it. She walked around the room and, slowly, the babe calmed and stilled and she smiled, rubbing her hand over her abdomen as she continued to talk softly to the babe.

After a while she thought the babe might be still long enough for her to sit back down and rest for a while and had just started to step back towards the lounger only to come to a quick halt when she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her abdomen that nearly doubled her over. Her arms wrapped immediately, instinctively, around her swollen abdomen. She could feel the babe suddenly start kicking and squirming again and she gasped at the sharp pain, tears prickling her eyes as she staggered, knowing she had to get help. Needed to...

Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, feeling something wet and warm trickle down her thighs.

Gasping, trying to breath through the pain, she called out for Mira, knowing the girl was always near enough to hear but as she knelt there, waiting for her hand maiden, her heart began to pound against her ribs as wave after wave washed over her. She called out again, as loud as she could, just in case Mira was down the hall, but still the girl did not come. 

A fresh wave of pain hit her just as she tried to force herself to stand and she cried out in agony as she doubled over, all but curling up in a ball on the floor. The pain was excruciating, almost as bad as the pain she'd felt the night Jon had been born, and she struggled to move, to push herself to her hands and knees.

Looking down she found the front of her gown stained with blood.

Fear ran through her, turning her insides to ice, and her throat seemed to close up as she realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong.


	42. Chapter 42

Lyanna had to force herself to move, to not let the fear and pain overrule her, and, after a brief struggle, she managed to use a nearby chest to pull herself up, though she sagged heavily, the pain lancing through her in quick, sharp bursts. She cried out again for help, knowing she'd never be able to walk through the Water Gardens to Maester Sevran's chamber in her current state. 

Tears spilled down her face as her fear grew. 

What if something happened to the baby?

She started to take a step but her knees again buckled and she dropped, barely catching herself on the same chest she'd used to stand. She whimpered in pain and her hand pressed to her abdomen as she felt the baby kick again, followed by a crushing wave of pain that had her crying out as fresh tears spilled down her face. Drawing a deep breath she pushed the pain down as much as she was able and screamed for someone, anyone, to help her. She prayed, to the Gods Old and New, that someone, anyone, heard her.

She let out a broken sound as she curled forward, trying to fight through the pain, when she heard the door of her chamber fly open.

"Lyanna?"

She looked up just as Ellaria stepped into the room.

The woman froze for a moment, eyes wide and shock written clear as day on her face, before a change overcame her, the shock was replaced by determination as the Dornishwoman rushed forward, crouching down next to Lyanna, carefully helping her to sit up.

"We need to get you on the bed," Ellaria said, sounded calm and certain, arm still wrapped around her. "On three I'm going to help you to stand, are you ready?"

Lyanna drew a deep breath and nodded, listening as Ellaria counted to three before, together, they managed to get her on her feet. The pain radiated through her back and down her legs, her stomach suddenly cramping and she whimpered as Ellaria steadied her before helping her to the bed. As she lay down she felt blood squish between her thighs and couldn't help the face she made. If she wasn't in so much pain she'd be disgusted by the feeling.

Ellaria moved hurriedly around the bed, helping to prop Lyanna up against the pillows before she climbed on the bed and knelt between Lyanna's legs, carefully lifting the bloodstained fabric of her gown.

"What...What are you..."

"I need to check you, Lya, to see how far along you are."

Lyanna tried to speak but ended up letting out a heart wrenching cry as the pain stabbed through her once again. Her head was thrown back against the pillows and she felt Ellaria's hands on her thighs, guiding her to hold them open a certain way and she would have felt uncomfortable with the other woman touching her, seeing her like this, but between the pain and the fear any discomfort went out the window in favour of having someone there, having someone help her.

"The baby is starting to crown."

Ellaria's words cut through the haze of pain and Lyanna whimpered as she looked at the Dornishwoman. "What?"

It must have her tone or maybe the look on her face but Ellaria was suddenly looking at her the way she'd seen midwives look at first time mothers.

"Lyanna...how...how coherent were you for Jon's birth? Did...Did the Maester give you milk of the poppy?"

She shook her head.

"I...I had birthing fever...when I had Jon...I don't...I don't remember much of that night."

Ellaria gave a small nod of her head. "Alright, alright, it's okay, Lyanna." She rubbed her hand gently, comfortingly over Lyanna's thigh. "It just means it won't be much longer and the baby will be born."

Lyanna tried to nod that she understood but she ended up crying out as a fresh wave of pain washed over her, her body cramping as she gripped the blanket beneath her, feeling threads tear free as her nails bit deep. She closed her eyes, feeling tears leak from the corners, as the pain slowly ebbed, praying to the Gods, Old and New, that the baby would be okay. The baby had to be okay. It had to be.

"Now, Lyanna," Ellaria suddenly said, causing Lyanna to open her eyes. "Push now!"

She pushed as hard as she could, screaming and crying, the pain nearly unbearable, but she pushed, stopping when Ellaria said only to start again when commanded.

It went like that for what felt like an eternity.

Pain and blood and screams and tears.

"You're doing so well, Lya," Ellaria soothed and she wanted to laugh. She didn't feel like she was doing well. Seven Hells she felt like the pain would never stop. "Just a little bit more now. You can do it, Lya."

Pain, almost unbearable and like being kicked by a horse, filled her and she almost didn't hear Ellaria tell her to push as she screamed like a wolf howling for blood. She felt something slide from her body and, though it had been years since Jon's birth, it was a feeling she recognized as her babe finally being born and she let out a soft sob, relieved it was finally over.

Her relief was short lived as she realized the baby wasn't crying.

Wasn't making any sound at all.

"Why..." She lifted her head, looking down as Ellaria shifted about, eyes wide and face suddenly pale. "Why isn't...isn't there any crying?"

Fear gripped her with icy fingers as she weakly pushed herself up, looking down, watching, horrified, as Ellaria carefully unwound the birth cord from her baby's neck. Her daughter's neck.

"Gods, no," she sobbed, staring at the still, silent form of her newborn girl. "No...please no..."

She sat there, numb, as Ellaria quickly, yet carefully, pressed against the babe's chest before blowing a soft, gentle breathing into her tiny nose and mouth. The Dornishwoman repeated the actions over and over and all the while Lyanna felt as though her heart was being ripped out of her chest. When Ellaria stopped, looking at her, dark eyes shining with tears she was trying not to shed, Lyanna shook her head, not wanting to believe what she knew had happened. What she could see with her own eyes.

Tears rolled down her face.

Her body trembled and chest heaved but no sound came out.

She stared at the still and lifeless body of her baby.

Her daughter.

The world suddenly grew so very cold and, as she continued to stare at the babe she let out a broken sound. It felt like her throat was being torn apart by shards of glass and as she screamed and sobbed, begging for it to be a dream, for the Gods not to do this, not to take her daughter, Ellaria was there, arms wrapping around her, rocking her, trying to comfort her as best she could. She heard a sound but didn't realize what it was until she heard Ellaria snapping at someone, Mira most likely.

"Don't just stand there like a moon-eyed calf, you little fool! Go fetch the Maester! Now!"

Lyanna heard running and a door closing sharply but she couldn't focus on anything through the grief and hollowness inside. Still screaming and crying and clinging to Ellaria she had no idea how to stop. Thankfully Ellaria didn't seem to care about her current state. The Dornishwoman just held her, holding her tightly, combing a hand through her hair as she continuously whispered in her ear.

"Let it out," the Dornishwoman whispered. "Just let it out, Lyanna."

She let out a broken, pain filled, grief-stricken sound as she buried her face in Ellaria's shoulder, no longer able to stand the sight of her daughter's body.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Oberyn was making his way down the corridor, having finally escaped his girls, honestly he didn't think his behaviour around Lyanna had warranted them distracting him so she could make some sort of escape, when he saw Mira, Lyanna's maid, come dashing madly around the corner. The girl looked absolutely frazzled and she had just started to rush by him when she stumbled and, reacting reflexively, he caught her arm, steadying her. "What, by the Seven, has lit such a fire under you, girl?"

Mira looked at him with wide eyes. "I...I need to fetch Maester Sevran for Princess Lyanna...she...she..."

Oberyn didn't wait to hear whatever else the girl meant to say.

He took off at a run for Lyanna's chamber.

Fear pounded through him and his mind kept conjuring up horrible images of his wife, hurt, bleeding, something wrong with the babe, and, with each image, he moved a little faster. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he neared his wife's chamber, his only thought was that Lyanna needed help. Needed someone to be with her. He hadn't been there for her when things had nearly gone wrong when she'd birthed Jon but he wouldn't fail her this time. Not when she needed him. He didn't stop to knock, didn't try to calm himself, before bursting into the room.

"Lyanna, I..." He fell silent at the sight that was waiting for him.

Lyanna was sitting on the bed, her gown stained with blood, pale and shaking, screaming and sobbing, as Ellaria held her. His heart dropped into the very pit of his stomach as he saw the babe, pale and lifeless, on the bed. Everything in him raged in protest. Refused to accept what he could see. What he knew. Moving almost as though in a haze, he pulled his tunic off, using the dagger on his belt to cut the birth cord before wrapping his lifeless child, his daughter, in his tunic, holding her for a moment as tears burned his eyes, before laying her to the side, knowing he needed to focus on the living. 

On Lyanna.

Climbing onto the bed he wrapped his arms about his wife, who immediately released her hold on Ellaria in favour of clutching at him, her cries of grief causing his tears to spill down his face, dripping from his cheeks into her hair. He held his wife tightly, wanting so desperately to be able to take her pain away. To bear it for her. He heard the Maester enter the room, heard the man talking quickly with Ellaria, who apparently had been there, helping Lyanna with the birth, but he didn't even attempt to focus on them.

There was nothing he could do for his daughter.

But for her mother he could.

He could be there. Could be the strength she would need. The source of comfort. He could be whatever she needed him to be.

He could do that.


	43. Chapter 43

Burying her daughter in the crypts beneath Sunspear was the hardest thing Lyanna had ever done. The infant girl, whom Lyanna named Lyarra, for her mother, was laid to rest in a little crypt next to Oberyn's brothers. In the days that followed the funeral, days filled with condolences and kind, softly spoken words, Lyanna felt like she was slowly losing her mind.

She took to hiding in the garden of her weirwood tree just so people would leave her alone. She did so for nearly a week before Oberyn approached her, gently suggesting a visit to the North, to Winterfell and her family there. She wasn't stupid. She knew he suggested it as a way of giving her time away from the place that currently held only grief and pain for her. He suggested it because he genuinely believed time with her brother and his family would help her.

She agreed without any fuss.

And though she was surprised when Oberyn told her he would not be going with her and their children she accepted it when he told her that there was something he had to see to. Something he should have done before he ever fetched her back from Starfall. Something that might help her, that might help them both, regain something, some piece, however small it might be, of what he had so carelessly broken.

It took a month and a half of travel to reach Winterfell but the moment she passed through those the gates it felt as though she had never left. Jon, perched in her saddle, looked around with wide eyes even as he wiggled free of the fall of her cloak. For all that he had grown in the South, in the heat of Dorne, Jon had shown his Northern blood by seemingly being unfazed by the cold and, in all honesty, he seemed rather comfortable in the North. Unlike his sisters who were huddled in the carriage, Obara occasionally sticking her head out just to complain about the cold before disappearing again.

Lyanna, even in her doldrums, couldn't help but be amused.

In the open courtyard of Winterfell the group was greeted by Ned and his family and the moment Lyanna saw her brother she felt tears prickle her eyes. Ned was holding his daughter, Sansa, a tiny little thing with Tully hair and Lyanna swore a piece of her heart shattered. Her daughter and Sansa could have been wonderful friends, her baby girl could have been fostered in Winterfell where she and Sansa could have spent endless days together, growing and gossiping and becoming beautiful little ladies together. 

The Gods had destroyed that dream before it could ever truly begin.

Climbing from Winter's saddle Lyanna drew a deep breath before reaching up and helping Jon down. Her son kept hold of her hand as he took in this new place, eyes big and curious. He looked up at her and she smiled down at him before walking towards Ned, trying to pretend that seeing his baby girl didn't hurt the way it did.

"Welcome home, little sister," Ned said with one of his gentle smiles before he reached out with one arm to hug her. She pressed close, taking comfort in her brother's embrace, before stepping back, trying to smile but finding it difficult, almost impossible, though thankfully Ned pretended not to notice. His soft grey gaze turned to Jon, still looking around with wide eyes but the moment Jon realized Ned was looking at him he peered up at him.

Jon gave a small smile. "Hello, Uncle Ned."

Ned's smile widened even as little Sansa looked down at, her big blue-grey eyes full of curiosity. "Hello, Jon," Ned said as he crouched down, putting Sansa and Jon at nearly eye level with one another. "This is your cousin, Sansa. Sansa, darling, can you say hello to Jon?"

Sansa made a soft sound, tiny cheeks turning almost the same shade of red as her hair before hiding her face in her father's neck. Ned chuckled, rubbing her back soothingly even as Jon looked up at his mother, seeking her guidance. Lyanna gave him a reassuring smile but before she could speak a soft little voice sounded from just behind Ned.

"Hello, Jon."

Ned turned his head just as a little boy with Tully red hair stepped around him, giving Jon a warm, welcoming smile.

"I'm Robb," the boy said, still smiling, extending his hand. Another reassuring smile from Lyanna was all it took for Jon to step forward and take Robb's hand in his own.

"Hello," the little Prince replied and Robb beamed as bright as the sun.

Ned chuckled as Robb immediately tugged Jon towards the doors of the castle and he looked at Lyanna even as her daughters emerged from their carriage, Obara spitting what sounded like a curse in Rhoynish even as she drew her cloak tighter about herself. Sarella rolled her eyes and told her sister to stop being such a baby. Obara's glare could have caused flowers to wither. But not ever curious Sarella. Lyanna shook her head and ushered the girls inside.

He led the way to the great hall and there Lyanna met his wife, Catelyn, who, the last time Lyanna had seen her, was readying herself to become Brandon's wife. They greeted each other warmly enough, though they had never been, nor would they ever be, particularly close. Catelyn took to Jon almost immediately though she was a little distant with the girls. Lyanna did not hold her to fault for that. Catelyn had been raised in the Riverlands where, like all places North of Dorne, bastards were seen as a mark against a family.

Once they were shown to the their rooms, Jon taking off with Robb once more, Lyanna sat on the bed that, once, had been hers and, as she had done for many days, too many days, she fought back her tears. Tried to lock her grief and pain away so that it could no longer hurt her. She had always been so strong. A true she-wolf. Always. And now she felt so weak. She didn't want her children, her family, to see that.

A sudden, yet soft, knock at the door caused her to rub a hand over her face, hurriedly scrubbing away any tears, before she drew a deep breath before calling out.

"Enter."

The door opened and Ned stepped in, quietly closing the door behind him, the look on his face spoke of concern and she tried to smile, she did, but knew it hadn't worked when that look deepened.

"Ned..."

He crossed the room without a word and gathered her into his arms, holding her as their father once had. His embrace was warm and strong and comforting. He didn't say anything, didn't ask her any questions, he just held her. It shattered all of her carefully built walls and she began sobbing, wailing like a child, cursing the Gods, Old and New, for taking her daughter. She lashed out, striking her fists against her brother's chest, begging to know why, why the Gods had taken her babe from her, why gift her a child if only to snatch it before it could live.

And all the while Ned just held her.

Let her rage.

Let her cry.

Let her release all the pain she'd been holding since Lyarra's death.

Until all she could do was cling to him. To hiccup and sniffle as she hid her face in his shoulder like she had done often times when they'd been children. And when she was quiet, when all she could do was whimper, he combed his hand through her hair, kissing her temple softly.

"I don't have the words, the actions," he finally said, voice soft, pitched low but gentle. "To make this better. To set it right, Lya. Gods know I wish I did. I would see the darkness pulled from your heart and mind. I would...I would see light and joy in your eyes again."

Lyanna let out a soft sound, lifting her face from her hiding place, tipping her head back to look at her brother. At the face oh so like their father's. "I thought...I thought time would help but it...it hasn't..." She shook her head, tears spilling down her face and clinging to her lashes. "If anything...If anything it makes it hurt more..."

Ned nodded, wiping her tears away with his thumb, giving her a soft look.

"Some wounds take longer to heal, Lya. Some wounds...Some wounds never truly heal. We just...We learn to live with them."

"I don't...I don't want to live with it...I just want...I want my little girl. My Lyarra."

Ned hugged her close again and she continued to cling to him. Her grief finally washing over her like an ocean wave and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't push it back into the box she'd carried it in for over a month. It took several minutes for her to realize that she needed this. That she needed to purge the pain and grief. That she needed to do what she was doing, crying and raging, in order to even begin to heal. But even realizing that she wished she didn't have to.

She wished the Gods hadn't been cruel.

She wished that she had her daughter.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

The days following her arrival in Winterfell were rather quiet and peaceful.

Jon and Robb took to one another as though they'd been born twins, rarely was one seen without the other, while Obara and Nymeria took to training with the Northern knights, testing themselves against men of different skills than the Dornish knights they were accustomed to facing. Tyene, sweet, ladylike Tyene, found herself rather at home with Catelyn, learning needle work and the things most ladies North of Dorne did, while Sarella became quite the little explorer, often found tottering after Maester Luwin, asking question after question, making the old Maester smile and happily spread wisdom to a new generation of learner.

Lyanna, still determined not to be ruled by her grief but no longer denying it, went down into the crypts and knelt before the statue of her mother, whispering prayers, asking her mother to watch over her daughter, wherever they were, to keep the babe safe until the time when she joined them. She also went to her father's crypt, and Brandon's, to them she said nearly the same, but also asking that, if they could, to watch over her still living children. To protect them and to guide them whenever possible.

One evening, during dinner, Lyanna was surprised when Catelyn asked her if she'd ever considered fostering Jon in Winterfell.

The room seemed to fall silent as Lyanna regarded her good-sister. Ned's gaze darting between the two women even as Jon and Robb, seated beside one another as close as they could get, looked someone hopeful at the mere idea of it. Before Lyanna could answer, however, Obara, as bold and outspoken as her father, spoke from where she was sitting to Lyanna's left.

"Why should she?" The eldest of her girls gave Catelyn a look that said she clearly thought the idea was stupid. "There are plenty of good Houses in Dorne Jon could foster in if Mother and Father should deem it necessary. Which it isn't."

"Obara," Lyanna tried to be reproachful with her eldest, she did, but honestly the girl had just given voice to thoughts Lyanna had had herself. Before she could say much more Catelyn was speaking again.

"I do not doubt the Houses of Dorne are all honourable and decent," the Lady of Winterfell replied somewhat curtly. Giving Obara a look that made Lyanna's gaze narrow. She'd seen that look directed at her girls from her good-sister different times. And it was starting to do more than irritate her. "I merely think, if he's to be fostered, it should be with his family. Not complete strangers."

"Well he's still far too young for fostering, either way," Ned chimed in, sensing and seeing the growing tension and trying to defuse it as quickly as possible. "I'm sure Lya and Oberyn will decide what's best for their son."

Catelyn opened her mouth, no doubt to continue to defend her view, but a quick look from Ned had her remaining silent. Obara huffed but a glance from Lyanna, sharp and full of warning, had the girl also keeping silent. Dinner from that point was quiet and tense and, the moment she could, Obara stood and all but stormed from the room, her sisters close behind.

Lyanna sighed even as Robb and Jon were excused, the boys rushing off together, giggling and talking about how they might live together one day. She waited until the duo were out of the room before she turned her gaze back to her good-sister.

"The next time you look at my daughter as though she is something you scrapped from your boot, Lady Catelyn, I will not hold my tongue."

Catelyn blinked. "Lyanna, I didn't..."

"You did." Lyanna's tone was as icy as her gaze. "Since the day we arrived you have looked down upon my daughter. On all of my daughters." She slowly stood from the table, still all but glaring at Catelyn. "They may not be of my flesh or blood, they may be bastard born, but they are _mine_. _I_ raised them. _I_ am their mother. And if you so much as give them a snide glance again I will show you why my late father called me a she-wolf."

Catelyn scowled and Ned rubbed his hand over his face, knowing anything he said or did now would not improve the situation.

"How dare you come into my home and..."

"You forget," Lyanna snapped, hands clenching at her sides. "That this was _my_ home long before it was yours. That, though I am a Princess of Dorne, Winterfell will always remain my home. The only reason I have held my tongue these last few days is because you are my brother's wife and mother to his children. I will not continue to be so tolerant."

Without another word Lyanna turned and made her way from the hall.

She let her feet carry her where they willed and, as she often had, both in Winterfell and the Water Gardens, she soon found herself in the stables.

Winter greeted her with a snort and affection head bump and she smiled as she patted his nose. Suddenly, despite the hour growing late and the darkness gathering as night fell, all she wanted was something she had not done in years. She wanted to ride through the fields around Winterfell. She wanted to feel the chill of North air on her face, hear the distant howling of wolves, see the familiar dance of the God Lights overhead.

She quickly saddled Winter, climbing onto his back and, with a touch of her heels, rode out through one of the side gates that was less manned than the main one. Winter tossed his head and snorted loudly as he went from a trot to a full gallop. He, like her, remembered their old home, remembered what it was to run with earth and grass and summer snows beneath his feet instead of sand.

A smile, the first true smile to grace her face in weeks, spread across her face and, as she rode across the fields, Lyanna finally felt a sense of peace.


	44. Chapter 44

Lyanna rode for what felt like hours.

Nothing but her and Winter and the ground beneath his hooves and the night sky, alive and dancing with the God Lights, above them.

She rode until Winter began to slow, his gallop dropping to a trot and then a walk, and she smiled as she patted his neck, guiding him towards a small stream so that he could drink and rest. Once he stood upon the bank, head dipping to the water, she climbed from the saddle, the hem of her dress catching along the tall grass as she carefully made her way to the water's edge. Crouching down she cupped her hands and brought some water to her mouth, sipping before it could trickle away between her fingers. She repeated the action a second time and started to do it a third but paused when she heard voices.

"You'll do as you're bloody well told!"

"Please! Please, no! Please, I'll...I'll do anything but not this! Please not this!"

Lyanna heart pounded against her ribs.

The voices were feminine though the first was sharp and harsh, the second weepy and fearful.

She had just stood and turned when something else broke the quiet of the night.

A cry.

A baby's cry.

She looked down the embankment and saw the light of a lantern swaying in the darkness, heard the first woman snarl at the second, ordering her to shut the child up, to just do what she'd been told. But the second woman began to cry, holding a small bundle to her chest, sobbing as she begged for the first woman to do something, anything else. Without giving it much thought Lyanna turned, drawing her sword from Winter's saddle, leaving him where he stood, before turning and making her way towards the two women.

The first woman, the hissing, angry creature, had just started to reach for her companion, for the bundle, the babe, the woman carried and Lyanna let out a sharp sound, drawing the attention of both as she pointed the tip of her blade to the first woman.

"Who are you," she demanded and wasn't surprised when the woman holding the still crying babe darted away from the first, moving nearer to Lyanna but still keeping distance between them in case this were just another threat. "And what is this?"

"This is none of your business," the first woman snarled as the second trembled, tears rolling down her thin, pale face. "Tis a family matter. Hardly the concern of some little waif thinking herself a knight."

Lyanna let out a low sound.

"I am Princess Lyanna Martell, daughter of Lord Rickard Stark," she growled, stepping towards the first woman, seeing how the second's eyes widened in shock. "And I am making it my business. Now, woman, I'll ask again. Who are you and what are you doing?"

The first woman regarded her for a moment before giving a slight bow of her head.

"My name is Mildred, m'lady, I'm the miller 's wife" she said, voice still harsh, like the screech of a hawk. She jerked her chin towards the other woman. "And that's my daughter. Tessa."

"And the babe?"

"She's my daughter, m'lady," Tessa said, her eyes still wide though Lyanna saw a hint of pleading, for understanding. Tessa couldn't have been more than fourteen and, though she was a skinny little thing she had a beauty to her that, even in the shadows and dancing light of the lantern, was easy enough to spot.

"Aye," Mildred spat, drawing Lyanna's attention back to her. "A bastard daughter! A bastard you kept hidden for over a year you little harlot!"

Tessa shied away from her mother when the woman started to move and Lyanna growled faintly, twitching her blade, the warning clear enough that Mildred stayed put.

"And what, Mildred," Lyanna said calmly. "Are the two of you doing here in the dark of night?"

Mildred lifted her chin. "Getting rid of the blight upon my family."

"She's not a blight!" Tessa clutched her daughter tighter to her, the tiny girl's wails having quickly disolved into whimpers. "She's my baby! Your grandchild."

"No grandchild of mine!" Mildred looked insulted by the very idea of it and, not for the first time that evening, Lyanna had to remind herself that not everywhere in the world were people as tolerant and accepting of bastards as they were in Dorne. "Little rat needs to be drowned! Offered as tribute to the Old Ones so that you might remember your duty to your family instead of offering yourself to any halfwit man that whispers sweet nothings in your ear!"

Tessa let out a frightened sound, stepping back further, but Lyanna stepped forward, once more drawing Mildred's gaze.

"You would a child, a child of your own blood, drowned?"

Mildred huffed.

"It is bastard born! Should have been dealt with before it could ever draw breath!"

Lyanna shook her head, glancing at Tessa. "What of her father, girl? Would he not take his child?"

Tessa shook her head. "He...He left, m'lady," the girl said, still looking terrified of her mother and the woman's plans yet hopeful that Lyanna might be able to help her. "Before she was ever born. I...I kept her hidden. Secret. My...My grandmother helped me."

"And I'll see that old bitch out in the cold for her part in this," Mildred suddenly screeched and Lyanna snarled in a very wolf like fashion.

"You will hold your tongue, ma'am, or lose it." Lyanna's gaze was cold as she glared at Mildred who glared right back. "Why not send the girl to the Silent Sisters? Or give her to a family unable to have children of their own?"

"I've already told you," Mildred seethed. "It is a blight upon my family and I'll not see it continue to draw breath so that it will bring shame to us! Tessa is to be married tomorrow and I'll not allow her betrothed to learn of this! He'll abandon her and us if he does!"

Lyanna growled. How could a woman just carelessly, heartlessly, cast aside the most important thing in the world? Couldn't she see what it was doing to her daughter? What her hate was doing? Drawing a deep breath Lyanna shook her head, glancing at Tessa, telling from the girl's expression that she just wanted to protect her child. How had such a caring girl come from a bitter old hag?

"I'm not going to let you kill a child," she said, ignoring the sharp way Mildred looked at her. "Not for any reason."

"You can't stop it," Mildred growled, hands clenching into fists. "You've no right to..."

"Perhaps I should drown you in that stream," Lyanna growled, taking a threatening step forward even though she had no intentions of harming the woman. Her tactic worked however, it scared Mildred enough that she stepped back, eyes widening with fear. "Any woman who threatens her own flesh and blood is hardly fit to be called a woman."

Mildred's eyes flashed with her anger and Lyanna looked slowly at Tessa, at the bundle she held, the still whimpering child, and she knew there weren't many choices for the girl and her child. She knew if she just sent them on their way Mildred would simply find a way to kill the child she saw as a mark against her family. Tessa would never be able to truly claim the child as her own and the odds of her soon to be husband accepting a bastard were not good either. Drawing a deep breath Lyanna did the only thing she could think of to save the innocent child.

"Give her to me, Tessa."

Tessa blinked, hugging her daughter closer, looking wary now. "What? Why?"

"Because if you don't your mother is going to kill her," Lyanna hated being so blunt but she knew it was the only way to convince Tessa. "One way or another. You know that."

"How do I know you won't hurt her?"

Smart girl. Not just obeying because Lyanna was a noble.

"Because my husband has four bastard daughters and I have raised and loved them as though they were my own." Lyanna gave a soft smile even as Tessa looked surprised by her admission. "I swear, by the Gods Old and New, Tessa, she'll come to no harm with me."

Tessa continued to hesitate, clearly weighing her options, before she slowly nodded. She hugged her daughter tightly again before pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head. As she stepped towards Lyanna her mother let out an angry sound, like an angry cat, but stayed where she was when Lyanna shot her a sharp look. As Tessa handed Lyanna her daughter tears rolled down her face.

"Her...Her name's...Anara..." Tessa said as Lyanna held the tiny girl close to her chest with one arm. "She's just over...over a year old...please...please take care of her. Maybe...Maybe find her a...nice...family..."

Lyanna nodded. "I swear, Tessa, she'll be well looked after."

Before Tessa could say anything more, before she could even utter a thank you, Mildred grabbed her by the arm and began pulling her away, pushing her in the direction of their home no doubt. Lyanna thought it was cold, harsh, but she had already done more than most would have. The girl in her arms whimpered, looking up at her with wide eyes, no doubt frightened by all the goings on that she couldn't possibly understand and, almost immediately, Lyanna began rocking her.

"It's alright, little one," she cooed softly while moving back to where Winter was waiting for her. "You're safe now. You're safe."

The girl, Anara, whimpered and big, fat tears dotted her little lashes and Lyanna kissed her forehead, hoping to calm her.

She managed to climb back into the saddle, sword returned to its sheath, holding Anara safely against her as she rode back to Winterfell. She could have passed the girl off to one of the servants, ordering them to find her a family, come up with some convincing lie about finding the child abandoned, and yet she couldn't. She looked at that tiny face and, though she felt a twinge of pain, remembering her own daughter, she couldn't just give her up. She'd promised to take care of her. To protect her. She would keep that promise.

She returned to her room, asking one of the maids to find a cradle for Anara to use and, though the woman seemed confused and surprised to see her with a babe, the maid nodded and hurried off to do as Lyanna had asked. It wasn't long after the maid returned with the cradle and fresh blankets that Ned arrived in her room. He was frowning, that deep frown that said he was about to say something that she wouldn't want to hear.

"Can your lecture about how I shouldn't snap at your wife wait, Ned?" She barely glanced at her brother, focused on getting Anara to sleep. Which admittedly didn't seem to take much. The little thing had no doubt had quite the trying day.

"I'm not here about that," Ned said, sounding calm and yet she could still tell from his expression that this was not a conversation she wanted to be part of. "I'm here about..." He paused and drew a deep breath, gaze darting to the cradle, to Anara, before back to Lyanna and she bristled slightly as she realized why he had really come to talk to her.

"Ned..."

"Where did you find her, Lya? Babes don't just...appear...out of thin air."

"Perhaps you should go ask the miller's wife," Lyanna snapped but quickly regained control of herself, not wanting to wake Anara. "The woman...her daughter bore a child...a bastard and that horrid woman was going to...to drown her own grandchild. I couldn't just...I couldn't stand by and let that happen, Ned."

"You could have given the girl to a maid or had one of them find a suitable family." Ned glanced again at Anara, his expression shifting, becoming slightly sad but still kind. "But instead you kept her with you."

Lyanna frowned, moving away from the cradle, giving her brother a cold look.

"What are you trying to say, Eddard?" She saw him flinch at her use of his full name but didn't care. "Don't beat about the damn bush just...just come out and say it."

Ned let out a huff of breath, nostrils flaring slightly, eyes darkening a bit.

"She can't replace the one you lost, Lya."

A bolt of rage shot through her and she had to fight down the urge to growl, to shout and rage at her brother for even daring to think such a think.

"Anara," Lyanna said firmly, grey gaze narrowing. "Is not a replacement. She is a helpless child who _needs_ someone to take care of her. And I promised, Eddard, I gave my word, that I would see her taken care of. Even if I have to do so myself."

"Lya..."

"She is not a replacement," she said again, needing to emphasize her point. "Nor is she some sort of...consolation prize. She will never be that. _Never_."

"You think this will ease the pain? That taking care of this child will heal the wounds the loss of your own left?"

Lyanna shook her head. Why couldn't Ned understand? This wasn't about her Lyarra or her. This was about what Anara needed. She knew she could give the baby girl to another, to a family, but she would always be left wondering if it had been the right thing. If Anara was safe and well looked after. She would always wonder if Anara had a good life. The wondering, the never knowing, would eat at her heart and soul worse than the loss of her daughter did.

"I think I am doing what is right," she said softly, turning away from Ned, stepping back towards the cradle, looking down at Anara, at her little round face and dark blonde curls. "This...This isn't about replacing Lyarra and it's...it's not about healing my wounds. It's...It's about helping a child that the rest of the world would turn away simply because she is bastard born." She glanced back at Ned, giving a soft, if sad, smile. "There is a saying from the old teachings of the Rhoynish. Save one life and you save the world entire. The Gods placed her and I on the same path for a reason, Eddard. Whatever that reason may be I...I intend to see it through to the end."

Ned's expression shifted then, growing somewhat warmer but still his eyes spoke of his doubt, his concern over her decision. In the end he didn't try to change her mind, didn't try to argue with her, instead he merely walked over and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close, kissing the top of her head.

"You never cease to amaze me, little sister," he whispered against her curls and Lyanna smiled as she hugged him in return.

She knew her decision would cause people to talk, even back in Dorne, but she was certain, absolutely certain, that she was doing the right thing.


	45. Chapter 45

Lyanna was sitting in the great hall, holding Anara, the little girl giggling and laughing as she reached up to play with the dark tresses of Lyanna's hair, and keeping an eye on Jon and Robb who played nearby with little wooden swords, when Obara came looking for her. The eldest of her girls sat next to her and looked at Jon and Robb for several long, quiet minutes before she spoke.

"I'm sorry," Obara said softly, never taking her gaze from her brother and his cousin. "For the other night. For...For snapping at Lady Catelyn like I did."

Lyanna regarded her daughter for a moment. "Are you apologizing because you are truly sorry or because you think it's what I wish to hear?"

Obara looked at her.

"I am actually sorry," the girl replied, picking at a nonexistent loose thread on her tunic. "I don't...I don't mean to say things sometimes it's just I...I get so angry and I...I just blurt things out or I lash out and I...I'm sorry, Mother, I don't mean to. I really don't."

Lyanna reached out to brush Obara's hair back, smiling as she tucked the dark strands behind the girl's ear.

"You have a temper," she said simply, brushing her thumb over Obara's cheek. "Like your father in his youth. You have to learn to control it or else you will get yourself into serious trouble."

Obara gave a nod. "How...How do I learn?"

Lyanna smiled softly. "We'll speak to your father when we return home."

The expression on Obara's face said it all. She was not in favour of that plan.

Lyanna sighed. "I know you're still angry with him, little snake, but...but it's time to let it go."

"But..."

"It's been nearly a year, Obara, and what has your anger at your father gotten you, hmm? What good has it done? None. Merely driven a wedge between you and your father that grows larger with each passing day. It can't continue or you will lose your each other." Lyanna leaned over and pressed a kiss to Obara's temple. "You do not want to give that relationship up, little snake, not for any amount of anger, no matter what he's done because...because one day he will be gone and...all you will want, all you will wish for, is to have him back. Just to tell him how sorry you are and how much you love him."

Obara suddenly hugged her, mindful of little Anara, and Lyanna smiled against her daughter's hair.

"I'm sorry," Obara whispered as Lyanna hugged her in return. "I...I'll try harder, Mother, I promise."

Lyanna smiled and kissed Obara's cheek as they drew apart. "That is all I ask, little snake."

A loud crashing sound drew their gazes suddenly to Jon and Robb, who had somehow managed to knock over a suit of armour that, if Lyanna recalled correctly, had belonged to her great-great-great-grandfather. Both boys looked at the armour with wide eyes before looking at Lyanna, fully expecting to get into trouble but Lyanna couldn't help but laugh, remembering how she and Benjen had once done the same thing in when they had been children and how Brandon had whisked them away before their father or mother caught them.

Jon and Robb, realizing they were about to be yelled at, both grinned and were soon laughing right along with Lyanna.

Wiping tears away from her eyes Lyanna smiled as she hugged Anara closer, the girl giggling and hugging her back, all while watching her son and nephew attempt to get the suit of armour back upright as quickly as they could so that Ned or Catelyn wouldn't see it. 

This certainly wasn't the life she would have chosen for herself but, in that moment, for the first time in over a year, she finally felt at peace. And she couldn't trade it for anything in the world.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

The visit in Winterfell seemed to be all too short but, after two months, Lyanna knew it was time to return home. The journey went smoothly and, despite an invitation from Robert to stop in the captial and rest along the way Lyanna had the group press on through, both because she wanted to get home as quickly as possible and because she had no desire to spend any amount of time around Robert. She heard the stories, Seven Hells she knew more than half were likely true, and she had no desire for him to try and drunkenly seduce her into his bed.

They reached the Water Gardens just passed midday and Lyanna was glad of it.

Anara had not yet fully accustomed to the heat of Dorne and she wanted to get the girl out of the sun and into one of the cool inner pools in order to help sooth and relax her. The group was greeted by Areo, who appeared surprised by the sight of her with a babe, but he said nothing, merely smiled as Lyanna carefully climbed from Winter's saddle. She watched as Jon raced off with Sarella, who was smiling, her son chattering about getting an orange before going to the training yard. Obara, Nymeria and Tyene headed off for their quarters, Nymeria saying something about wanting a bath and Tyene agreeing.

"Welcome home, Princess, I trust your visit was pleasant," Areo greet her as she stepped towards him, his smile never wavering as his dark gaze dipped to Anara, who was staring up at him with wide eyed curiosity. "And who is this little one?"

"It was," Lyanna said with a smile. "And this is Anara. My daughter."

Areo had a knowing, understanding, gleam in his eyes and he nodded. "Hello, little Anara," he said with a charming smile, causing Anara to grin in response. "I am Areo."

Anara gave a little wave and her grin widened before she hid her face in Lyanna's shoulder. Lyanna rubbed her little girl's back and chuckled softly. "She's still getting used to the heat," she said as Anara gave a slightly uncomfortable whine. "I'm going to take her into the pools to make her a little more comfortable."

"You'll make a sand wolf out of her yet, Princess, I'm quite certain." Areo grinned as he spoke. "And, before you go, Prince Oberyn asked to be told when you returned, should I tell him where to find you or would you prefer to wait and seek him out yourself?"

"You can point him in the right direction if you wish. It makes little difference to me."

"And what of the little pup?"

Lyanna shrugged.

"Tell him whatever you'd like, Areo. His opinion on this matter is of little concern to me."

Areo chuckled as he nodded and Lyanna turned and headed for the pools.

Once there she hummed softly to sooth Anara before she sat her down in the shade, the girl looking around curiously as Lyanna toed off her sandals and pushed her trousers down her legs, thankful for her long yet light tunic that hung to mid-thigh. She scooped Anara back up and turned, strolling over to one of the pools and, as she stepped in, she let out a soft, happy sigh as the cool water washed over her feet and calves. She stepped a little further in and slowly sat on one of the steps, slowly, carefully, lowering Anara into the water.

It took a few minutes but soon Anara was laughing and splashing, sending water over Lyanna's shoulders, soaking her tunic and hair and making her laugh. She sat Anara in the shallow water, keeping careful watch over her now happy girl, smiling and laughing as Anara amused herself and finally relaxed for the first time since they'd arrived in Dorne. She was just glad to see Anara happy again.

"Lya?"

She barely glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Oberyn's voice.

"Oberyn." It was all she said by way of greeting, her attention on Anara, letting her daughter grasp at her hands as she kicked her little feet and squealed with laughter, water splashing wildly. Her husband settled next to her and, even though she wasn't looking at him, she could see his dark gaze fixed on Anara.

"Who's this then," Oberyn asked, a small smile on his face as Anara looked up at him, he offered his hand and the little girl squealed happily as she grasped hold of his fingers, thrilled at having a potential new playmate.

Lyanna smiled as she carefully combed Anara's hair back. "This is Anara," she said, which caused Anara to look up at her, smiling brightly. "My daughter."

Oberyn appeared momentarily surprised by her declaration before he smiled.

"She is beautiful, Lya."

Lyanna looked at him. "You're not angry?"

"That you have a caring heart and sought to help a child that obviously needed it?" Oberyn reached up to tuck Lyanna's hair behind her ear. "Why should I be angry about that?"

"My brother seemed to think you would be unhappy with me presenting a child not my own as my daughter."

Oberyn snorted. "You took my children as your own when you did not have to. Why should I think you would do any less for another child? What other nonsense did your brother say?"

Lyanna snorted.

"That I was trying to replace our daughter."

Oberyn let out a low sound at that. "Lya..."

"It's ridiculous," she said, hugging Anara a bit, smiling as her precious girl giggled and splashed at the water. "Thinking that...that anything would replace Lyarra or that I could even...that I would ever..."

Tears sparkled in her eyes and Oberyn immediately reached up to cup her cheek.

"I know you would never try to replace Lyarra." He gave her a soft, gentle smile. "I see how having Anara has helped you move on from the grief and pain of...of losing Lyarra. I would never disagree with or hate something that helped you heal like that."

Lyanna leaned into Oberyn's touch and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she leaned in and brushed her lips softly, lightly, over his. "You are certainly something special, Oberyn Martell."

Oberyn smiled, resting his forehead against hers, eyes twinkling softly.

"There was something I wanted to tell you but I don't want to spoil this moment quite yet," he said softly and, while part of Lyanna feared whatever he had to say, she had grown stronger over the last year and would not run from whatever it was he had to share.

"I can handle it, Oberyn. I'm not some frail little flower."

Oberyn chuckled. "You must certainly are not," he agreed with a small smile.

He drew a breath, waiting a moment longer, before he spoke again.

"I...I moved Ellaria and Elia to a villa just down the coast."

Lyanna blinked.

For a minute she did nothing but stare at Oberyn. Confused. What was he trying to say? Was he leaving her? Was he choosing Ellaria over her? Before she could say anything, ask him what he meant, he was speaking.

"I realized...it wasn't right, or fair, to expect you to share your home, our children's home, with her." Oberyn gave a gentle smile. "And...well...while you were away I set about getting the villa readied for Ellaria and our daughter. I thought...I thought it would be better this way. She and Elia are near enough for me to see but not constantly thrown in your face."

Lyanna blinked.

Her confusion quickly turning to surprise.

"Oberyn..."

"Ellaria said she would return to Hellholt if that was your wish."

Part of Lyanna, the tiny part of her that was still angry, still bitter, screeched that she should say the words. That she should send her husband's paramour back to whatever rock she crawled out from under but, as Anara's laughter filled her ears, as she remembered what Ellaria had done for her, she quickly, and vehemently, squashed that part of her. Oberyn had once said she was not cruel and, for all her hurt over his past actions, she would not deny him Ellaria or the daughter they shared.

"Tell her to stay in the villa," she finally said, speaking softly, holding Oberyn's gaze. "And...And perhaps in time I might become comfortable with the idea of her living here, in the Water Gardens, but just...just not yet."

Oberyn nodded even as he smiled, leaning in to kiss her, laughing when Anara, determining he was too close to Lyanna, pushed at his chin making a soft sound that had Lyanna giggling and drawing back, pulling Anara with her, kissing the top of the girl's head even as she flicked water at Oberyn, who chuckled again and reached out, wrapping his arms around both Lyanna and Anara, drawing them back to him, making both laugh happily.


	46. Chapter 46

Life in the Water Garden slowly returned to some level of normal and before long the mid-year solstice was upon them.

Servants worked almost day and night for nearly a week to prepare for the festivities and, before long, the Water Gardens looked more splendid than it normally did. The scent of orange blossoms filling the air and garlands of the blossoms hung about the corridors and in the archways. Wine was brought up from the cellars and special dishes were prepared as bards and minstrels came to entertain the nobles of Dorne who had been invited to the Water Gardens to celebrate the solstice with House Martell.

Lyanna had even suggested to Oberyn that he bring Ellaria, which she knew surprised him but, as Doran pointed out, she was being considerate. Making it so he was not forced to choose between celebrating the solstice with his family or his paramour.

The night of the solstice the Water Gardens were full of light, laughter, music and good cheer.

Lyanna greeted visitors and friends alike with bright smiles and kind embraces.

After an hour or two she excused herself from the festivities and stepped out into one of the open courtyards a short distance from where the festivities were. The air was cooler and she smiled as she looked up at the stars and sipped her glass of wine. The year had been long, full of heartbreak and pain, yet she had pulled through it all and, she liked to think, that she'd come out stronger.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when hands unexpectedly settled on her waist.

"Easy, Lya," Oberyn's deep, rich voice purred, breath ghosting over her ear and she sighed as she relaxed.

"You just took ten years off my life," she chuckled, lowering her glass and turning her head just enough to look at her husband over her shoulder. "Shouldn't you be entertaining your guests? Surely you didn't leave Ellaria to fend off the vultures on her own did you?"

Oberyn chuckled and used his grip on her waist to pull her back against him.

"Ellaria can handle herself quite well amungst the Lords and Ladies present tonight." He smiled. "Besides, nearly half of them aren't interested in her. They only have eyes for my beautiful she-wolf."

Lyanna snorted. "Doubtful."

"It's true," he said, glancing briefly over his shoulder, back towards where everyone was still celebrating. "They look at you and see a wild, untamed beauty that they would do anything to possess." He surprised her by kissing her neck, teeth scrapping lightly. "They would do and say anything to please you, to coax you to their beds for a single night."

Lyanna let out a soft sound, leaning back into Oberyn, amused a bit by his words.

"Is that so?" She teased lightly. "Perhaps I should go see just what they're willing to..."

Her words turned into laughter when Oberyn growled faintly, arms wrapping around her waist, holding her tight to him.

"You're supposed to be the sensible one in this marriage," he rumbled, kissing her neck again, part of him deeply pleased that she'd worn her hair up and he could easily kiss and nibble at her pale skin. "Though it would be hypocritical of me to be angry or jealous should you choose to take a lover."

Lyanna huffed and met Oberyn's dark, nearly black, gaze.

"You know little of wolves," she said with a small smile. "A true she-wolf, an alpha she-wolf, will only ever take one mate." She reached up, cupping Oberyn's cheek. "You may be a brainless oaf of a man at times but you are the only man I will ever willingly take to my bed."

Oberyn smiled and, before Lyanna could blink, he captured her lips in a kiss.

The kiss was fierce and passionate.

It stirred a fire in her that had not been woken in quite some time.

She let out a low sound, pressing closer to him, even as he deepened the kiss.

In the span of a heartbeat, a blur of motion Lyanna did not notice or recall, Oberyn spun her, pressing her back against one of the nearby pillars, never breaking the kiss. If anything it grew more heated and she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck. One of his hands gripped her hip tightly, fingers pressing hard even through the fabric of her dress and she moaned into his mouth even as he crowded her closer to the pillar, the stone scrapping against her bare shoulders slightly. When she broke their kiss to catch her breath, she realized distantly that she was writhing against her husband even as he rocked against her, the hard line of his cock pressed against her thigh.

"Oberyn," she panted his name as he looked at her with a burning gaze, those midnight eyes full of desire. Desire for her. And while there was still a part of her mind that protested this, anyone from the festivities could walk out into the yard, could see them like this, she felt an odd thrill shoot through her at the thought of being caught like this with her husband.

"Oberyn...we can't...we...oh..."

Oberyn rumbled, loudly, as he ducked his head, sucking and nibbling a dark mark into to the pale skin of her neck and she whined as she laced her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly even as she bucked against him, moisture pooling low between her thighs as her want, her desire, rose. Burning like a wildfire inside of her.

And just like that all her doubts, her worries, flew from her mind.

Oberyn claimed her mouth again and she groaned, tongue tangling with his even as he gripped her thigh, urging her to lift her leg, to wrap it about his waist, the skirt of her dress easily pushed up and, as she clung to him, he reached between them, pushing her smallclothes aside and running his fingers over her wet folds, making her mewl into his mouth as her hips bucked. Oberyn rumbled again as he pressed first one and then two fingers into her, thumb rubbing over that little bead of pleasure that nearly drove her out of her mind.

She pressed into his touch, growing increasingly desperate for her husband, reaching out to tug at the ties of his trousers, wanting more than his fingers, wanting the hard length she could still feel pressing against her thigh. Her hands shook but she managed to get his trousers open and his cock free, whimpering softly, drawing a deep groan from him as she took hold of him, stroking him in the same teasing way he was her.

He let out a fierce growling sound as he, not so gently, tugged his fingers from her, making her mewl and buck, feeling empty and desperate and she tore his mouth from his, gasping and panting, about to demand he do something when he took her hand from his cock and, gripping the base himself, guided the head to her slick entrance. He groaned deeply, face pressed to her neck, as he slid into her. The slide creating perfect, wonderful friction and Lyanna mewled as she clung to him even as he gripped her hips to help steady her before grabbing hold of her other leg, hoisting her up, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her dress bunched about her own, his strength the only thing keep her from falling.

His grip on her hips was bruising and she knew there would be marks later but as Oberyn began to thrust, long and hard, into her she hardly cared.

Her pleasure grew and grew, coiling tightly like a spring, and she gasped and moaned, head thrown back, Oberyn mouthing at her neck, hips snapping against her, driving his cock in and out of her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Oberyn murmured words into her skin, words in old Rhoynish, and Lyanna trembled against him. He was calling her beautiful, calling her his, promising to never hurt her again, promising to be better for her. She whimpered softly, tipping her head forward, letting it rest against his shoulder as she rolled her hips to meet his thrusts, which were starting to become erratic and shaky as he too began to near the edge.

It took less than a dozen more of those hard, deep thrusts before Lyanna was crying out, like the howl of a wolf, nails biting into Oberyn's back through his tunic, as she came, plummeting over the edge of her pleasure and, with a few more shaky thrusts Oberyn let out a deep sound of his own before he joined her in bliss.

When their breathing slowed to normal again, he carefully slipped his softening cock from her body and slowly, gently, lowered her feet to the ground, still holding her close, nuzzling her neck and cheek gently. Lyanna whimpered softly, thankful for the pillar behind her, leaning back, sagging really, against it as her rapid heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She ran her fingers lightly, gently, through Oberyn's hair even as he slowly lifted his head, kissing her softly, making her murmur quietly.

As they broke apart Oberyn rested his forehead against hers, smiling slightly as he combed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

"My beautiful she-wolf," he whispered, lips ghosting against hers. "My beautiful, beautiful Lya."

Lyanna couldn't help but hum softly as she continued running her fingers through his hair. She would have been content to remain like that, basking in the afterglow with him, but, from somewhere inside, Doran was calling Oberyn's name.

Oberyn groaned faintly before slowly letting go of her, tucking his cock back into his trousers, shakily tying the laces, gently smoothing Lyanna's dress back down. And yet he didn't move. He just kept looking at her, that soft smile still on his face, and he only stepped slightly away when Doran called his name again, this time closer to the doorway leading to the courtyard, but he kept hold of Lyanna's hand.

"I love you, Lya," he whispered and, despite everything that had happened between them, her heart skipped a little at that declaration.

"And I love you, my viper," she whispered back with a smile of her own.

Oberyn's eyes shone as he pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles before releasing her hand. She watched as he went to find Doran and couldn't help the happy smile on her face.


	47. Chapter 47

Within two months after the solstice Lyanna was seeking out Maester Sevran.

She spoke to the Maester quietly, privately, and, after said brief conversation, she went to find her husband.

Finding him meant travelling to the villa where Ellaria and Elia were living since Oberyn had ridden out the day before to visit his paramour and their daughter. Lyanna reached the villa quickly enough, leaving Winter with one of the stable hands and, after a guard pointed the way, headed for the west wing of the villa. She found her husband playing with little Elia on the floor, and Ellaria, four months pregnant, was resting on a small lounger nearby. Both her husband and his paramour seemed surprised to see her but before Oberyn could find his voice Ellaria was getting to her feet, speaking as she moved.

"Princess," the Dornishwoman greeted her with a polite curtsy and a gentle smile. "What a pleasant, and most welcome, surprise."

A year ago Lyanna would have scoffed and given Ellaria a cold look.

Now she merely smiled back and nodded.

"I'm don't mean to intrude," she said honestly, looking from Ellaria to Oberyn, who had slowly stood, holding Elia in his arms, the tiny girl looking from her father to Lyanna and back again. "I...I have news for my husband that...well...couldn't wait."

Oberyn blinked and a tiny frown graced his face before he handed Elia to Ellaria, starting to tell her to give them a moment but Lyanna shook her head.

"She can stay." Lyanna saw the surprise mirrored on the two and she would have laughed in any other situation. "I...I don't mind."

Ellaria smiled, hugging her daughter, and shook her head. There was an almost knowing glow in her dark eyes. "It's alright, Princess," she was quick to reassure. "It's almost time for Elia's nap anyways and I feel that...that this may be something best said between you and Oberyn for the moment."

With that Ellaria let Lyanna and Oberyn alone.

Oberyn looked at Lyanna, still frowning a bit, still looking confused and surprised and Lyanna gave a soft sigh.

"Perhaps you should sit," she said, gesturing towards the lounger but Oberyn didn't move, merely continued to stare at her and she sighed again. "Oberyn, I..."

"You're leaving me."

Lyanna blinked.

Where in the name of the Gods had that come from?

"What?" It was her turn to appear confused and surprised. "Oberyn, what...what in the world are you talking about?"

Oberyn's expression filled with pain.

"I have always...I've feared this day would come...knew it likely would...ever since I first brought Ellaria home." His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "I knew what I was asking of you was too much. I...I should have let you go so much sooner but I...I am selfish."

Lyanna blinked again. "What?"

"I wanted you...you and Ellaria both and I thought...I thought I could make you happy enough to stay. I thought...I thought if I changed things...didn't expect you to share a home...didn't expect you to accept her as you accepted my daughters that...that perhaps...in time...we might become a family. All of us." Oberyn shook his head. "It was foolish. And selfish. I didn't want to give up one woman I love for the other. Didn't...Didn't want to give either of you up."

"Oberyn..."

She was startled when he suddenly closed to the distance between them, taking her face between his hands and kissing her.

It was soft and sweet, gentle yet passionate.

When he drew back his eyes reflected the pain and sadness of his voice.

"I don't want you to go...to leave me...you are my wife and...and though I have shown it very poorly I do love you, Lya. I love you so deeply that...that sometimes it frightens me."

She blinked and stared up at him.

"What...What do you mean?"

He smiled almost sadly. As though he regretted that she had to ask.

"I love you, Lya. Your beauty. Your strength. Your fierceness. Your independence. I love that you have a heart as large as the North and that you are not afraid to fight for what you want." Oberyn's smile widened a little as he swept his thumb over her cheek. "I even love the weaknesses you hide so that the world will only see you as a fierce she-wolf. I love everything about you. I have for...for so very long. I've just done so poorly at showing it."

Lyanna blinked, feeling tears starting to form. "Oberyn..."

"I love you," he said again. "Gods, I'm _in_ love with you. Deeply. But I...I won't force you to stay. I won't be one of those men, Lya, I swear. I won't..."

Lyanna pressed a finger to his lips to silence him before he said anything else and made her cry. She drew a deep, stuttering breath, fighting back the tears.

"You...You said you loved Ellaria...that you were in love with her..."

"I do," Oberyn said with a nod. "I am. But it's...it's different. It's...It's like the pair of you are two halves of one coin and I...I cannot seem to choose between you. It is selfish, I know, but...but having you both...it makes my life so much better."

"Oh, Oberyn."

"I don't want you to go, Lya, but...but I want you to be happy. If...If leaving will make you happy then I...I will learn to accept it. I will..."

"I'm not leaving, you great oaf."

Oberyn blinked. "What?"

Lyanna felt a tear trickle down her cheek and, before she could wipe it away, his thumb swept over her cheek again, catching the tear and sweeping it away. She blinked back tears, part of her unable to believe what he had just told her. He was in love with her. It was, along with the other news she had received that day, nearly too much to take it.

"I said, I'm not leaving."

"Then...I don't understand...what..."

"I'm pregnant, Oberyn."

He blinked, appearing confused again, and his mouth opened and closed, silently, it was a very good imitation of a fish out of water.

"What?"

She couldn't help but chuckle and smile even as she reached up to cover one of his hands with her own. "I'm pregnant."

Oberyn's eyes went wide and, for a moment, she thought he might fall over he appeared so shocked.

"You...You're..." He shook his head, as though trying to lodge his brain back into place.

"I think you're more shocked than I was and I suspected it for the last few weeks."

Again Oberyn blinked in shock.

"What?"

She sighed softly, still smiling, and rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand.

"I've carried two babes," she said, suddenly reminding herself of her mother, and she was almost certain she'd heard nearly the same words from the late Lady Lyarra. "I've become more...adept...at noticing the early signs. I spoke with Maester Sevran and he agrees with me. I...I wanted you to be the first to know."

Lyanna let out a startled yelp as Oberyn suddenly wrapped his arms about her, lifting her off her feet and spinning her in a wide circle. He was laughing joyously and she soon found herself laughing along with him even as she clung to his shoulders.

"Oberyn! Oberyn, you oaf, stop," she laughed, stomach rolling a tiny bit. "Stop before you make me sick."

That was enough it seemed because he stopped spinning her about, though he hugged her close, kissing her temple, her forehead, her cheek, her lips. Anywhere and everywhere that he could. Lyanna laughed and reached up to cup his cheek, smiling, seeing the joy and light in his eyes. She leaned into him even as his hand dropped to rest against her abdomen, still flat and smooth, but would, soon enough, swell with proof of their next child.

She knew, from the sudden shift in his expression, subtle as it was, that he was thinking of their daughter, thinking of Jon's uneasy birth, and that, though excited about having another child to love, he was worried. For the child. For her. It was a worry she shared. But one that she would not let rule her.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered, smiling softly, rubbing her thumb over his cheek. "Everything's going to be okay."

"You don't know..."

"I have faith," she replied quickly, still smiling, watching his dark gaze dip from her face to her abdomen and back up again. "And right now...right now that's enough."

Oberyn gave the barest hint of a smile, kissing her again, soft and sweet.

"You never cease to amaze me."

Lyanna couldn't help but laugh as she leaned into him. They still had things to discuss, his apparent belief, his fear, that she was going to leave him being at the top of that list but, for the moment, she was content to just stand there with him.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

By that evening the rest of her family knew and she'd sent two ravens to the North. One to Ned in Winterfell and one to Benjen at Castle Black.

She wasn't surprised when Doran approached her as she sat watching Jon playing with Anara, showing his little sister, whom he already loved fiercely, how to build things with the blocks their Uncle Ned had given them in Winterfell. Doran sat next to her, reaching over to take her hand in his, smiling softly. In his eyes, dark as Oberyn's but wiser, much wiser, she saw the same worry that she'd seen in Oberyn's.

"Please don't turn into a mother hen over this," she said softly, not wanting the children to overhear and become as worried as their uncle. "It's going to be bad enough having Oberyn fuss over me I don't need you to do the same."

Doran chuckled lightly, lifting her hand and kissing the back of her knuckles.

"You forget, little sister, I was there when Jon was born. When you suffered the birthing fever." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "And I have never been so scared. So if I choose now to keep a more...watchful...eye over you until this babe is born I hope you will not fault me."

Lyanna smiled softly and leaned into Doran's side just a little before kissing his cheek.

"Just don't try locking me in a tower and I think we'll be okay."

Doran chuckled and Lyanna grinned as he kissed her temple.

"No fears of that, little wolf," he said, smiling. "A wise man knows you do not cage a wolf."

Lyanna laughed and looked at her son and daughter, picturing them with a third sibling. A little girl with Dornish looks perhaps. Or another boy who embodied the North like Jon.

Boy or girl, she supposed, it didn't matter. Not to her. Not to her family. So long as her babe was healthy and happy that was all that would matter.


	48. Chapter 48

Lyanna had just gotten Jon and Anara to bed and returned to her own chambers when Oberyn came looking for her. She beckoned him quietly into her chambers, making certain the door was closed behind them, and she turned to face him with a gentle smile on her face.

"Oberyn," she started but he quickly spoke over her.

"I thought we should speak about...about my outburst earlier. My...My assumption that you were...well..." He cleared his throat and Lyanna's smile never wavered as she stepped towards him, reaching up to cup his cheek.

"I was actually planning on speaking with you in the morning about that," she admitted. "And...And I want you to know that I wouldn't just leave you. Not unless you do something incredibly stupid."

"Bringing a paramour home and expecting you to be accepting of it doesn't count as incredibly stupid?"

"It is but it's a different kind of incredibly stupid. And if I didn't leave you when I was beyond enraged about it then I'm not going to do so when I'm starting to become happy again."

Oberyn made a soft sound, running his fingers through her hair, a small, barely there smile gracing his face. "I can't explain my fear, Lya," he said softly, still giving that barely there smile. "I just...sometimes I think things are going too well and that I'm going to wake up one day and you'll be gone again only this time...this time you won't come home because you've realized you can't forgive me for what I've done and I..."

He was starting to ramble and Lyanna stopped him by leaning up and kissing him.

It was a quick, chaste kiss, but as she drew back she smiled.

"As much as I wish I could I can't rid you of that fear overnight," she said softly, rubbing her thumb over his cheek gently. "I can only help to assuage it by showing you, every day if need be, that I'm not going anywhere. You are the father of my children, both legitimate and not. You...You gave me a freedom I never would have had with any other man. You...You love me for who I am not...not who you want me to be. 

And...And even though you have done some incredibly stupid things I...I still love you. I'm not just going to throw that away, Oberyn."

Oberyn leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

"I don't deserve you."

Lyanna chuckled softly. 

"Maybe, maybe not," she said with a slight shrug. "And maybe you'll always be afraid that I'm going to cut my losses and walk away or maybe someday you'll realise that, no matter what you do, no matter what you say, my love for you, and your love for me, will always keep me here. Keep me with you. With our family."

Oberyn's smile grew a bit before he kissed her, soft and sweet, and Lyanna stepped closer even as his arms wrapped around her, hugging her close.

"Gods, how I love you," he whispered against her hair and she let out a soft, content sigh, hugging him a little tighter.

"You have no idea how it feels to know you love me, that you're in love with me," she whispered back and was surprised when he suddenly tipped her chin up, causing her to meet his dark gaze.

"I am sorry," he said softly, sombrely, eyes reflecting his emotions. "I'm sorry I ever made you doubt my feelings for you. That I ever made you feel that...that you weren't important to me. I'm sorry for everything, Lya."

Lyanna smiled, leaning slightly into his touch, reaching up to cover his hand with her own.

"We were both foolish and have made mistakes, we'll make many more mistakes along the way," she said. "But we've recognized the mistakes we have made, we've learned from them, and are trying to do better." She smiled at him. "We love each other, and our family, and that...that, my viper, is more than enough now."

Oberyn nodded and kissed her again.

They knew, even acknowledged, that they still had a long road ahead of them.

There were still old hurts that had to be healed.

But they were, at least, on the right path.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Six months later and Lyanna was starting to think that her husband and good-brother had been right to be worried.

She was nearly eight months pregnant but barely looked to be more than four.

Her abdomen, which had swollen large and round during her first two pregnancies, was barely a bump. It looked as though she had a small pillow stuffed beneath her tunic rather than a babe growing within her. If not for the restless kicks and thrashes of said babe she would have doubted she even was pregnant. And even with all the reassurances from her Mellario, Maester Servan, the midwife and even from Ellaria, she still worried.

"You need to stop worrying," Mellario said one afternoon as they sat in the shaded areas of one of the pools, watching as Oberyn played with the toddlers of the family. "You're giving yourself worry lines. Not to mention it upsets the baby."

Lyanna snorted as she watched Oberyn carefully scoop Anara up in one arm and Quentyn in the other, spinning them about, making both laugh even as Jon giggled from where he was swimming.

"That is easy for you to say," she said as she gave Mellario's swollen abdomen a glance. "At least you truly look pregnant."

Mellario chuckled, rubbing her hand over her bump.

"And what I wouldn't give for this one to be small like yours." She shook her head. "I feel like, how did you once say it, a beached whale?"

The two women exchanged a similar look before they both laughed.

Lyanna settled back into her cushion. "I'm just ready for this to be over. The worrying. The fear that...that something is wrong. All of it."

Mellario nodded, giving a gentle, understanding look as she reached over and took Lyanna's hand in hers. "I can't say that I blame you," her good-sister said with a small smile. "I've prayed to all the Gods who will hear me that you know only peace and ease with this babe. Gods know that you deserve at least that after everything else."

Lyanna smiled and gave Mellario's hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you."

"You do no less for me."

The two women shared another laugh before Lyanna's gaze once more swung to her husband and the children. Her smile widened as she watched the group, splashing and playing and laughing. It was easy, in that moment, to let go of her worry, her fear, and just exist in the moment. She wasn't surprised when her relaxation was ended by her son and nephew leaping up onto the lounger with her, they were little terrors the pair of them, and both boys were laughing, dripping water, making her squeak at the unexpected chill as the water soaked her clothing, before they leapt to where Mellario was sitting, doing the same to her.

Lyanna heard the deep laughter that belonged to her husband and she shot him a fierce look before smiling when she saw Anara giggling and clapping, egging her brother and cousin on.

With a soft huff of breath she stood, crossing to where Oberyn stood, carefully taking Anara from her husband, not caring that her daughter was just as drenched as the boys seeing as her clothes were already soaked and, before Oberyn could say a word, she stepped back, grinning even as Jon and Quentyn launched themselves back across the distance between where the loungers were and the pool. They leapt at Oberyn, laughing as he caught them, though he stumbled slightly, water sloshing wildly around the trio.

Lyanna laughed as she carried Anara back to the loungers, sitting down, cuddling her daughter, even as Mellario murmured softly about silly boys but her good-sister was smiling warmly and watching the boys as they continued to play with Oberyn.

Anara snuggled close and twirled Lyanna's hair around her tiny fingers before looking up at Lyanna with those big doe eyes. "Mama sing?"

Lyanna smiled and kissed the top of her daughter's head. "For you, pup? Of course."

Anara giggled and let her head rest against Lyanna's shoulder and Lyanna's smile widened as she hummed the melody of the song before she began to softly sing.

_"Can you feel the river run_   
_Waves are dancing to the sun_   
_Take the tide and face the sea_   
_And find a way to follow me_

_Leave the field and leave the fire_   
_And find the flame of your desire_   
_Set your heart on this far shore_   
_And sing your dream to me once more"_

She hummed the melody and wasn't surprised when Jon and Quentyn abandoned Oberyn, scampering over to crawl up on the lounger with her, Quentyn to one side and Jon snuggled up next to Anara, smiling as he hugged the girl he had accepted as his little sister. She heard Mellario's chuckle even as she saw Oberyn smile as she continued singing.

_"Now the time has come to leave_   
_Keep the flame and still believe_   
_Know that love will shine through darkness_   
_One bright star to light the way_

_Lift your voice and raise your sail_   
_Know that love will never fail_   
_Know that I will sing to you_   
_Each night as I dream of you"_

Lyanna hugged the children closer, fingers combing through Jon's dark curl, humming the melody of the song for a moment longer, looking at the peaceful and dozing faces of the three beautiful children around her. Her smile widened when Oberyn moved to sit next to the lounger, reaching up to rest his hand over her barely visible baby bump. She felt the babe kick and chuckled softly when Oberyn grinned, thumb rubbing a soft, gentle circle, earning another kick for his trouble.

While she was eager to have this pregnancy come to an end, in only so that her fear and doubt was finally laid to rest, she had to admit that some parts of it were fairly nice.


	49. Chapter 49

Lyanna's third pregnancy came to an end early one morning a few weeks later.

She woke with pain and knew, like all women knew, that it was time.

Mira, who had hardly left her side, trying to make up for not being there when Lyarra had been born, had rushed to fetch the Maester and the midwife.

Just beyond the windows of the room Lyanna could hear a fierce summer storm howling. Wind and rain beat at the shutters. Thunder rumbled ominously over head and, through cracks around the shutters, lightning flashed. She wasn't certain if she should take the storm as a good or ill omen but, as she laid panting, pain flooding her, she prayed it was good. Prayed it meant that this child would be strong, would be a fighter.

She wasn't surprised when Oberyn beat Maester Sevran and the midwife to her chamber. Likely he'd been sleeping in the corridor and Mira had either woken him or nearly tripped over him. She remembered days ago Doran musing that it would be easier for all if Oberyn just slept in Lyanna's chamber instead of the corridor. However he had managed it she didn't care. Especially when he climbed onto the bed, sitting behind her, letting her lean back into him, holding her hands and not complaining, not once, when the pain rolled through her and had her gripping his hands with the same strength and fierceness as a wolf tearing into a fallen deer.

By the time Maester Sevran and the midwife arrived Lyanna had pulled her sleeping gown up, baring herself from the waist down, legs spread and knees bent, trying to remember the breathing technique Ellaria had taught her months ago.

"Seems we have an eager little one," Maester Sevran said with a soft smile, voice light and teasing.

Lyanna tried to laugh but ended up groaning as a fresh wave of pain settled over her.

Oberyn kissed her temple, whispering soothing words into her ear, as the Maester and midwife tended to their duties. Maester Sevran checked Lyanna and shook her head.

"You cannot push yet, Princess," the man said as he patted Lyanna' knee. "A few minutes more."

Lyanna groaned again. "Gods...fucking hurts..."

"I know, Princess, I know," Maester Sevran gave another soft smile. "But soon it will all be worth it."

She nodded slightly, letting her head rest back against Oberyn's shoulder, breathing through the pain as best she could, gripping her husband's hands tightly with each wave of pain, her nails biting into his skin but not once did he complain or try to pull away and, when Maester Sevran finally told her to push she felt more than heard Oberyn's murmur of _finally_. It was a sentiment she deeply shared. She cried and screamed, her body cramping and something shifting within her, the feeling familiar from her first two pregnancies and she listened as Maester Sevran told her that it was time, that she had to push.

And so it went like that for ages.

She pushed when told, stopping only when too weak or when the Maester or midwife told her to.

Panting, soaked in sweat, blood sticky tacky to her thighs, all Lyanna wanted was for her child to finally come into the world. She wanted her child to be safe and alive and in her arms already.

"Once more, Princess," Maester Sevran said, voice cutting through the haze of pain and exhaustion. "Just once more. You can do this."

Lyanna let out a pain sound but pushed.

She pushed with everything she had, howling like a wolf baying at the moon.

And then she felt the babe slip from her body and a deep breath of relief fell from her lips and she felt Oberyn sag slightly behind her, no doubt as relieved as she was, and that relief only intensified when the wails of a babe, her babe, filled the air. She smiled, leaning back against Oberyn, head resting against his shoulder, turning to look at him, finding he was smiling, dark gaze meeting hers even as he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

"Congratulations," Maester Sevran said as he and the midwife cleaned the babe off, Maester Sevran cutting the birth cord before wrapping the babe in a clean blanket. "It is a boy."

Oberyn let out a soft sound even as Lyanna whimpered.

The Maester laid the babe in Lyanna's arms and she cradled the tiny boy to her, Oberyn's arms gently wrapping around her, one hand lightly resting against their son. Their son. It brought a smile to Lyanna's face even as she looked down at the now whimpering babe. Even speckled with blood she could see the newborn's resemblance to Oberyn. She turned her head, kissing Oberyn's jaw even as her husband whispered things, promises, to their son in Rhoynish.

Lyanna hummed softly as she gently rocked her new son, barely able to take her gaze from her son's face.

"He needs a name," she whispered, glancing briefly at Oberyn, who was still murmuring to the babe.

Oberyn paused, looking at Lyanna, and then quickly back to their son, his smile widening slightly.

"Torrhen."

Lyanna blinked.

"The King Who Knelt?"

Oberyn looked at Lyanna, still smiling, and gave a slight nod.

"He may have knelt, Lya, but he did so for the sake of his people. He saved hundreds of thousands from burning simply by bending the knee. Lesser Kings would have sacrificed the lives of their men rather than show such compassion and humility."

Oberyn looked at their son again and smiled.

"If our son grows to be even half the man his noble ancestor was I will be very proud indeed."

Lyanna hurriedly blinked the tears away, pressing a quick kiss to Oberyn's jaw, smiling the entire time.

"Torrhen it is then," she said as she looked back to their son. Their Torrhen. "Torrhen Martell, a Prince of Dorne."

Little Torrhen made a soft sound even as he snuggled closer to his mother, squirming just enough that his tiny hands came free of his blanket and, true to any babe, he grasped at the first thing that he could find. Lyanna's hair. And, like his brother and sister before him, he instinctively tugged, making Lyanna wince before carefully, gently, pried his tiny fingers free, kissing them softly, earning a soft gurgle from her son and she smiled down at him.

Oberyn once more began whispering to Torrhen in Rhoynish, promises and words of love, and Lyanna felt, not for the first time, that she was right where the Gods had always meant her to be.

 

**_oOoOoOo_ **

 

Lyanna wasn't surprised when, in the days following Torrhen's birth, there was a string of well wishers and visitors. Her children were, of course, most welcome, even Obara with her huff and teasing about having wanted another sister, that one brother was enough. Jon beamed happily, his father helping him to hold his little brother and, much like Oberyn, he made all sorts of promises to Torrhen. Promises of protection, of always having a friend, of being there whenever he needed him the most. Doran came the night Torrhen was born to see his new nephew and the Prince of Dorne had smiled, cradling the tiny babe, and declared Torrhen was the spitting image of Oberyn when he'd been a babe. It had made Lyanna smiling and laugh even as Oberyn sputtered and demanded, quietly so as not to upset Torrhen, that his brother keep such reminiscing to himself.

Mellario had visited briefly, her own pregnancy slowly nearing its end, and she had cooed over Torrhen, promising lots of toys and a playmate his own age very soon.

It should have been too much, too soon, but Lyanna had basked in the light and love that her family brought with them. She was, admittedly, somewhat surprised when, one afternoon nearly a week after Torrhen's birth, Mira enter her chamber, telling her that Ellaria was there and wished to speak with her. She'd nodded and told her maid to show Ellaria in.

Ellaria entered as graceful as any woman with a five month old babe in her arms could and, seeing little Obella, already dark headed, had a smile spreading across Lyanna's face even as she spotted little Elia tottering along behind Ellaria, those big curious eyes taking in everything around her.

"Ellaria," Lyanna greeted the woman kindly, gesturing for her to join her on the bed, knowing full well how tiring it was to carry a babe about no matter the babe's age. "What brings you here?"

Ellaria smiled as she sat, Obella cradled to her breast with one arm while she used the other to help Elia up next to her.

"Oberyn told Elia of her new brother," Ellaria said, still smiling. "She was hoping to meet him."

Lyanna looked at Elia, who was looking at Torrhen curiously, her little hands twitching slightly, her desire to reach out, to touch, no doubt strong but she was waiting to be told it was alright. Shuffling a bit closer to the little girl Lyanna gently shifted Torrhen, not surprised when he made a soft grumpy sound, his dark eyes blinking open briefly.

"It's alright, Elia," she said softly, reassuringly. "You won't hurt him."

The toddler shifted closer, slowly reaching out to rest her hand against Torrhen who, immediately and instinctively, reached up with one tiny hand to grasp at hers. It made Elia giggle and, gently, wrap her fingers around Torrhen's hand, smiling at him before looking up at Lyanna.

"Bwofer," Elia said proudly, grinning the entire time. "Wittle bwofer."

Lyanna nodded. "That's right," she said, smiling widening. "Torrhen's your little brother. Do you know what that means?"

Elia, though still grinning, shook her head and Lyanna reached up to gently brush the little girl's hair back.

"That means he's going to look up to you and you'll be someone he loves very, very much."

Elia giggled again and her grin became a full blown smile as she looked at Torrhen again.

"Tohen," the toddler cooed, thumb rubbing softly over the back of Torrhen's hand and the babe blinked sleepily, barely opening his eyes, before slowly beginning to nod off to sleep. "Tohen is wittle bwofer. I take care of wittle bwofer."

Lyanna looked up at Ellaria, finding the woman's expression to mirror her own emotions over the sight of Elia, though still so young, promising to take care of her little brother. Smile still fixed in place Lyanna carefully balanced Torrhen in the crook of one arm reaching out to Ellaria with the other. As Ellaria took hold of her hand, smiling back at her, Lyanna drew a deep breath.

"I don't think I...that I will ever be able to ever forget...how we met or...or why," she said softly, watching the emotions dance across Ellaria's face.

"Lyanna, I..."

"But," Lyanna pressed, still speaking softly, still smiling, giving Ellaria's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm willing to try and move on. Bitterness and hate...they're a poison that neither of us need. You...You make part of Oberyn happy. A part I obviously don't. And...And while that still upsets me I...I've learned enough to know that sometimes one must compromise in order to keep what they do have. I...want you to know that I will never deny your child is my husbands nor will I deny that she is sister to my own. There will be peace and someday, I hope, friendship between us."

Ellaria's smile slowly grew and she nodded which had Lyanna squeezing her hand again, this time reassuringly, and, looking at Elia and Torrhen again, she knew she'd made the right choice.


End file.
